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LEE  AND  SHEPARD  PUBLISHERS  BOSTON 


DRONES'  HONEY 


BY 

/f-^txM/    «S  fr-id&A1-    ^ 

SOPHIE    MAY 


"When  a  young  man  has  tasted  drones'  honey,  .  .  .  then  he 
returns  into  the  country  of  the  lotus-eaters." 

PLATO'S  Republic. 


BOSTON 
LEE    AND    SHEPARD    PUBLISHERS 

NEW  YORK 
CHARLES    T.    DILLINGHAM 

1887 


COPYRIGHT,  1887 
BY  LEE  AND  8IIEPARD 


All  rights  reserved 


RAND   AVERT   COMPANY 

BI.ECTBOTYPERS  AND  PRINTERS 

BOSTON 


TO  MY  FRIEND 

MISS    EMILY    DANFORTH 

dHjte  Book 

IS  AFFECTIONATELY  DEDICATED 


1626964 


DRONES1    HONEY, 


I. 


"  He  that  is  wise,  let  him  pursue  some  desire  or  other ;  for  he  that 
doth  not  affect  some  one  thing  in  chief,  unto  him  all  things  are 
distasteful  and  tedious." 

"  ~T)ENJAMIN,  my  son,  do  you  see  that  Kate  has 

-'—'    a  skein  ready  for  you  to  hold  ?  ' ' 

It  was  precisely  what  the  young  man  had  been  trying 
not  to  see ;  but  at  this  maternal  reminder  he  sprang 
forward  with  tardy  gallantry,  and  proffered  his  ser 
vices,  which  Miss  Kate  laughingly  accepted.  And 
thus  he  was  pinned  for  an  indefinite  period  in  the 
recesses  of  the  bay-window,  with  arms  extended  like 
pegs  from  the  wall.  He  looked  at  the  worsted,  and 
occasionally  essaj'ed  a  remark ;  while  she  looked  at 
him  and  replied,  till  in  some  way  —  she  said  he  was 
careless  —  the  skein  became  entangled,  and  her  white 
fingers  flew  hither  and  thither  among  the  meshes,  trying 
to  find  the  lost  clew. 

Out  of  doors  sullen  drops  of  rain  were  splashing 
steadily  from  a  blue-gray  sky  into  the  slate-gray  pools 
of  the  street ;  and  Mr.  Benjamin  Kirke  found  himself 


2  DRONES'  HONEY. 

listening  rather  dreamily  to  the  monotonous  sound, 
and  wondering  why  Miss  Kate  Stanley  had  not  lunched 
at  home  on  such  a  day  as  this,  instead  of  walking  a 
half-mile  in  the  rain  to  discuss  worsted-patterns  with 
his  sister  Lucy.  She  came  very  often,  and  there  was 
no  reasonable  doubt  that  it  was  always  to  see  Lucy. 
But  Ben,  the  only  son  of  the  family,  regarded  her 
call  to-day  as  a  "  visitorial  penance."  He  had  asked 
his  young  friend  Joseph  Fiske  to  luncheon,  intending 
to  show  him  some  new  bric-a-brac  ;  and  here  was  Joe, 
the  most  restless  of  mortals,  dancing  about  like  a 
piece  of  quicksilver,  impatient  to  be  gone.  Was  there 
no  end  to  the  yarn  ? 

"Benjamin,  my  son,"  said  the  little  mother  again, 
turning  her  head,  with  its  cap  of  filmiest  lace,  toward 
the  baj'-window,  "what  are  your  objections  to  the 
Land  of  the  Sky?" 

"None,  mother;  none  whatever,"  he  replied,  look 
ing  across  the  angry  waves  of  worsted  with  a  ready 
smile.  "Only  the  world  is  wide,  and  one  doesn't 
care  to  go  to  the  same  place  every  season." 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you  there,"  said  Miss  Stanley, 
raising  both  her  involved  hands  gracefully,  though 
rather  to  the  detriment  of  the  yarn.  "  The  world  is 
just  full  of  pleasant  resorts,  and  one  doesn't  care  to 
go  to  the  same  resort  every  summer." 

As  this  sounded  extremely  like  what  he  had  just 
been  saying,  the  young  man  paused  a  moment,  trying 
to  discover  wherein  the  difference  consisted.  Miss 
Stanle}-  had  a  way  of  taking  up  one's  remarks  and 
differentiating  them,  showing  that  the  ideas  pleased 
her,  and  she  wished  to  make  them  fully  her  own. 


DRONES'  HONEY.  3 

But  this  bewildered  rather  than  flattered  Mr.  Kirke. 
Her  eyes,  too,  fatigued  him.  They  were  considered 
expressive,  and  she  used  them  a  great  deal ;  but  he 
had  never  been  able  to  feel  their  charm  as  he  ought. 

"  She  is  a  good  girl,  and  a  pretty  girl,  and  expects 
to  be  admired,  and  it's  on  my  conscience  to  admire 
her.  What  possesses  me  that  I  can't  do  it?  "  queried 
he,  being  of  a  metaphysical  turn. 

And  then  he  sank  back  with  an  air  of  polite  endur 
ance,  sitting  in  a  stooping  posture,  as  if  to  reduce  in 
some  degree  his  huge  proportions  ;  for  he  was  an  over 
grown  young  man,  who  blushed  at  standing  "  six  feet 
two  "  in  his  boots. 

"But  you  do  enjoy  the  mountains?"  she  asked, 
breaking  the  pause. 

"Oh,  yes ;  but  the  sea  is  more  to  my  fancy  just 
now!" 

"  That's  exactly  what  I  always  say,"  she  returned 
enthusiastically.  "  I  adore  mountains,  but  I  prefer 
the  sea.  And  there's  Newport,  now.  James  and 
Molly  declare  it's  perfectly  enchanting.  That  was 
what  your  mother  and  I  were  discussing  when  you  and 
Mr.  Fiske  came  in." 

"Yes,  my  son,  it  is  really  worth  considering  —  for 
you  and  the  girls.  Not  for  me,  of  course,  for  I  shall 
not  leave  your  father,"  returned  Mrs.  Kirke  with  a 
doubtful  glance  at  the  young  man's  impenetrable  face. 

"And  I  told  your  mother,"  went  on  Miss  Stanley, 
"that  brother  James  and  sister  Molly  have  such  a  fancy 
for  Newport  that  they've  quite  won  me  over;  that 
is,"  with  an  eloquent  uplifting  of  the  speaking  eyes, 
"  that  is,  if  everybody  else  likes  it,  and  we  can  arrange 


4  DRONES'  HONEY. 

a  pleasant  little  party  of  our  own.  James  and  Molly 
would  not  want  any  one  outside  the  two  families,  — 
they're  so  particular,  don't  you  know?  " 

Mr.  Kirke  smiled  quietly,  as  a  young  man  may  who 
does  not  mean  to  be  appropriated  without  his  own  con 
sent.  He  had  never  even  thought  of  Newport,  much 
less  of  combining  the  two  families  in  a  Kirke-Stanley 
party.  If  his  mother  and  sisters  had  made  the  plan, 
they  would  find  they  had  reckoned  without  the  son 
and  brother. 

"  How  quiet  you  are,  Ben  !  "  said  Lucy,  his  younger 
sister,  coming  up  to  pinch  his  ear. 

"I'm  waiting  till  all  the  evidence  is  in.  You 
wouldn't  have  me  interrupt  a  witness?"  he  replied, 
with  a  glance  at  Miss  Stanley,  who  considered  his 
glances  "  magnetic." 

"  He  wants  you  to  go  on,  Kate.  You  are  the  wit 
ness  for  Newport." 

"  And  what  if  I  should  not  choose  to  go  on?  "  said 
Miss  Kate  archly.  "What  then?  If  I  were  you, 
Lucy,  I  wouldn't  indulge  him  in  these  high  airs.  It's 
not  the  way  I  used  to  manage  James." 

"  But  Ben  is  not  in  the  least  like  James.  He  has  to 
have  every  thing  expounded  and  compounded  before  he 
will  choose  to  understand.  —  Please  look  up  here,  sir. 
Do  you  know  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  James  Stanley  pro 
pose  to  go  to  Newport  in  July,  and  have  honored  us  by 
an  invitation  to  join  them  ? ' ' 

"Indeed!  Flattered  and  obliged,  I'm  sure,"  said 
the  tiresome  brother  with  a  profound  bow. 

And  Miss  Stanley  went  on  with  animation  to  re 
peat, — 


DRONES'  HONEY.  5 

"  James  and  Molly  are  so  particular,  3*011  know. 
There  are  so  few  people  James  and  Molly  would  really 
choose  to  take  into  the  party." 

"  My  compliments  to  James  and  Molly,  if  you 
please,  Kate,"  — here  the  last  lingering  inch  of  worsted 
was  wound  off,  —  "  my  compliments,"  said  Mr.  Kirke, 
springing  up,  and  flourishing  his  liberated  arms  ;  "  and 
tell  them  I  feel  it  an  unmerited  honor,  but  will  take  it 
into  consideration." 

Then,  without  pausing  to  note  her  discomfiture,  he 
darted  across  the  room,  caught  up  his  little  mother, 
and  bore  her  through  the  air  in  his  arms  to  an  easy- 
chair  near  the  grate. 

"  Benjamin,  my  son,  have  you  no  sense  of  propri 
ety  ?  ' '  gasped  the  gentle  lady  with  a  plaintive  attempt 
at  dignity.  '-Benjamin,  my  son,  do  you  know  this  is 
very  rude  —  before  our  guests  ?  " 

And  then,  finding  the  giant  quite  insensible  to  public 
opinion,  she  resigned  herself  perforce,  and  permitted 
him  to  play  with  her  jewelled  fingers  ;  while  she  looked 
around  with  a  deprecatory  air,  which  said, — 

"  You  see  I've  made  all  proper  resistance ;  but, 
really,  he's  a  boy  3'ou  can  do  nothing  with." 

"Oh,  why  do  you  mind  it,  mamma  dear?  "  said  Lucy. 
"  Everybody  knows  you  and  Ben  are  such  lovers." 

The  fair  matron  blushed  like  a  girl,  and  her  husband 
raised  his  judicial  eyes  from  his  newspaper  to  see  what 
they  were  all  laughing  at.  Whether  the  wily  young 
man  had  intended  it  or  not,  there  was  a  summary  end 
to  the  Newport  argument,  and  he  seized  the  opportu 
nity  to  ask  Mr.  Fiske  up-stairs. 

"I  always  said  you  were  the  luckiest  fellow  alive, 


6  DRONES'  HONEY. 

Ben,"  remarked  Mr.  Fiske  with  a  smothered  sigh, 
after  he  had  sufficiently  admired  the  newly  imported 
Italian  statue  of  Cupid  and  Psyche,  of  the  color  of 
well-creamed  coffee,  and  both  the  young  men  had  seated 
themselves  in  the  elegant  den,  for  a  chat. 

Mr.  Kirke  answered  with  the  eas}'  indifference  of 
one  sated  with  luxury,  — 

"  Well,  yes,  I've  no  fault  to  find  with  this  suite  of 
rooms,  unless  it's  overcrowded  with  bric-a-brac.  It's 
surprising  how  such  trash  accumulates." 

Mr.  Fiske  rose  restlessly. 

"Where  did  you  shoot  this  wild-cat?  In  Canada? 
Where  did  you  get  this  lace  coral  ? ' '  taking  down  a 
fine  specimen,  with  light  purple  veins  and  darker  arte 
ries.  And,  scarcely  waiting  for  answers,  he  turned 
from  the  cabinet  to  the  framed  photograph  of  a  regatta 
race.  "How  many  cups  have  you  won?  Oh,  there 
they  are  in  a  row,  —  two,  four,  six!  Well,  why  not? 
That  comes  of  your  '  giantism,'  "  drawing  up  his  own 
slight,  wiry  figure,  and  looking  at  his  friend,  laughing. 
If  the  laugh  was  rather  forced,  one  could  scarcely 
wonder.  He  had  found  the  world  a  battle-field ;  and 
Ben  Kirke,  fully  three  years  older,  had  found  it  a  play 
ground.  Ben  had  had  avant-couriers  to  cut  down  all 
the  thorns  and  briers  in  his  path  of  roses ;  while  on 
foot  and  alone,  and  against  fearful  odds,  young  Joe 
had  walked  up  and  stormed  the  enemies'  citadels. 

And  Joe  was  only  a  boy  yet,  a  boy  of  delicate  mould. 
Surely  Fate  was  either  perverse  or  blindfold,  or  the  posi 
tions  of  these  two  }'oung  men  would  be  exactly  reversed. 

"  Yes,  Art  always  said  '  Kirke's  luck  '  was  the  by 
word  at  school  and  college." 


DRONES'  HONEY.  7 

Arthur  Fiske,  or  "Art,"  Joe's  elder  brother,  de 
ceased,  had  been  Ben's  chosen  friend  ;  for  whose  sake 
it  was  that  Ben  could  now  be  patient  with  Joe's  many 
vagaries,  and  consent  to  admit  the  boy  to  a  sort  of 
intermittent  confidence  ;  rather  strained  sometimes,  it 
must  be  confessed,  as  the  two  young  men  were  widely 
unlike,  and  had  very  few  points  in  common. 

"Did  Art  say  that?  " 

Joe  was  not  quite  sure  that  he  ever  did,  but  the 
answer  was  prompt  enough. 

"  Yes  :  he  said  the  fellows  envied  you  beyond  every 
thing.  Lots  of  money,  and  no  hardships,  you  know. 
And  here  you  are,  sir,  at  twenty-five,  a  flourishing 
lawyer,  with  a  senior  partner  to  do  all  the  work,  and 
let  you  roam  to  the  ends  of  the  earth." 

"Quarter,  quarter!  Grant  that  Randall  does  the 
hard  work,  grant  that  he  lets  me  lounge  in  the  office 
occasionally ;  but  that's  not  saying  I  relish  the  law 
for  a  vocation.  To  draw  it  mildly,  Fiske,  I  hate 
it." 

His  companion  looked  up  in  genuine  surprise. 

"  Then  what  upon  earth  sent  you  into  it?  I  thought 
if  ever  a  body  did  as  he  chose,  it  was  you,  Ben 
Kirke." 

Mr.  Kirke  smiled,  elongated  himself,  and  brushed 
an  imaginary  dust-speck  from  his  sleeve. 

"  So  that's  as  much  as  you  know  about  it,  Fiske. 
Father  planned  it  all  while  I  was  in  the  cradle,  and 
the  first  word  my  infant  tongue  was  permitted  to  lisp 
was  Blackstone." 

"  Indeed  !  So  you  sacrificed  yourself  to  the  judge? 
Well,  I  knew  you  were  the  pattern  of  meekness." 


8  DRONES'  HONEY. 

"  Thank  you.  I  was  called  a  lovely  child  ;  but  the 
chances  are  I  might  have  held  out  against  the  law,  if 
I'd  known  as  much  about  it  then  as  I  do  now." 

"  Ah?  And  didn't  you  know  nearly  as  much?  An 
intelligent  infant  "  — 

"  Come  now,  be  civil,  Joe.  I  had  an  especial, 
growing  horror  for  litigation,  and  that  settled  it;  for 
father's  an  old-style  Puritan,  and  holds  to  taking  life 
across  the  grain." 

"Oh!  is  that  it?" 

"  And  if  I'd  been  of  a  sensitive  nature,  and  fainted 
at  the  sight  of  blood,  he'd  have  made  a  surgeon  of 
me,  Joe,  as  true  as  you're  alive." 

Mr.  Fiske  spun  about  like  a  revolving  globe,  alight? 
ing  at  last  on  one  foot.  He  was  receiving  information, 
and  it  rather  excited  him. 

"  If  I'd  been  sharp  enough  to  faint,"  went  on  Mr. 
Kirke  reflectively,  "  I  suppose  I  might  have  been  saw 
ing  bones  this  minute  ;  and  it's  dawning  upon  me  that 
I  should  have  enjoyed  it." 

Mr.  Fiske  revolved  again. 

"  Why,  yes,  you  always  had  a  knack  that  way.  I 
remember  how  you  patched  up  those  fellows  in  the 
base-ball  club  ;  Jones,  wasn't  it,  and  Stanley?  " 

"  No ;  Jones  and  Meader.  One  was  a  finger,  the 
other  an  arm.  And  then  there  was  Holway,  with  a 
break  above  the  ankle.  I  make  no  pretensions  to  gen 
eral  scholarship  ;  but  if  there's  one  thing  I'm  tolerably 
versed  in,  it's  anatomy." 

Here  he  arose  and  stood  erect,  with  a  look  of  con 
scious  power.  It  was  surprising  how  well  the  expres 
sion  and  attitude  became  him. 


DRONES'  HONEY.  9 

ct  I  tell  you,  Fiske,  I  have  times  of  thinking  I'll 
stop  this  drifting,  and  go  to  steering," 

"What  port?" 

"  Ay,  there  you  have  me.  Surgery  is  drudgery, 
and  medicine  a  farce.  And,  besides,  my  fate  was  de 
cided  for  me  a  dozen  years  ago :  so  where's  the  use?  " 
returned  the  young  man,  settling  back  indolently  into 
his  chair.  • 

"  A  dozen  years  ago?     How  is  that?  " 

"  Sit  down  again,  Joe,  and  I'll  tell  you.  It's  not  a 
long  story." 

Mr.  Fiske  steadied  himself  on  the  arm  of  a  divan, 
and  swung  one  foot  pendulum-wise,  while  his  friend 
began  slowly,  — 

"You  know  father  is  a  bright  and  shining  light  in 
the  church,  though  a  very  blue  light.  Well,  I  always 
went  to  church  and  Sunday  school  regularly  ;  and  one 
Sunday,  twelve  years  ago,  —  I  was  over  thirteen  at 
the  time  —  I  strayed  down  to  the  wharf  with  another 
boy,  —  I'll  tell  you  who  it  was  :  it  was  Dan  Thatcher. 
And  we  stood  watching  the  ships  come  in.  We  were 
both  of  us  going  to  Sunday  school,  but  thought  there 
was  no  hurr}',  —  you  know  how  time  slips  with  boj's,  — 
when  all  of  a  sudden  I  heard  my  name  called,  and 
father  seized  upon  me  and  caught  me  up  like  a  whirl 
wind.  Not  a  word  spoken,  no  chance  for  apologies  or 
explanations :  I  was  just  marched  by  the  jacket-collar 
through  the  street,  into  the  church,  and  down  the  aisle 
to  my  class,  where  the  bo}"s  were  reciting.  I  lived  it 
through  :  but  my  blood  was  up,  and  when  I  got  home 
1  walked  into  father's  study  ;  and  said  I,  — 

u  '  Father,  you  got  me  into  Sunday  school  to-day, 


10  DRONES'  HONEY. 

but  it's  the  last  time.  I'll  never  go  again  as  long 
as  I  live.'" 

"And  you  didn't?" 

u  And  I  didn't ;  though  I  fair!}7  adored  my  teacher, 
Mrs.  Lathrop.  Of  course  I  didn't,  Joe.  Father  was 
wrong,  morally  wrong,"  returned  Ben,  with  a  smoul 
dering  fire  in  his  hazel  eyes,  which  suggested  that  he 
might  not  have  been,  early  in  life,  an  easy  boy  to 
manage. 

"  But  the  gist  of  the  story  is,  that  mother  never  got 
over  that  rebellion,  as  she  calls  it,  though  I've  been  a 
rigid  church-goer  ever  since ;  and  a  year  ago,  when 
father  made  this  law-cage  for  me,  she  said,  '  Benjamin, 
my  son,  do  not  thwart  your  father;  another  rebellion 
would  kill  me.'  So  I  bowed  my  head,  and  entered  the 
cage ;  and  there  you  have  it,  Fiske,  in  a  nutshell. 
What  are  you  going  to  do  with  these  women  when 
they  lie  awake  o'  nights,  and  cry?  You  can't  be  a 
brute." 

The  smouldering  fire  in  his  eyes  had  given  place 
now  to  the  look  of  tenderness  which  usually  came  into 
them  whenever  he  spoke  to  or  of  his  mother,  or  even 
thought  of  her. 

Mr.  Fiske  dropped  lightly  upon  his  feet,  and  nodded 
in  a  wise  way,  indicating  vast  experience  with  mater 
nal  tears.  He  did  not  hold  them  very  sacred,  it  was 
plain  to  see. 

"  But  I've  never  considered  the  law  a  finality,  Joe, 
and  shall  be  ready  to  slip  out  of  it  at  any  time,  if 
something  better  should  offer.  —  Ah,  is  that  you, 
Caligula?" 

The   door  opened  warily  at  this  invitation  ;    and  a 


DRONES'  HONEY.  II 

handsome,  elaborately-dressed  mulatto  boy,  some  four 
or  five  years  old,  peeped  in.  flourishing  a  silver  tray, 
but  shrank  back  with  a  frightened  roll  of  the  eyes,  on. 
seeing  a  stranger. 

"  What  little  monkey  is  this?  "  laughed  Mr.  Fiske. 

"  Our  cook's  grandson  ;  and  I've  begged  him  for  a 
parlor  decoration.  Named  him  Caligula  on  account  of 
his  new  shoes.  —  Dance,  Caligula." 

Whereupon  the  urchin  struck  into  an  irresistibly 
droll  double-shuffle,  fixing  his  rolling  eyes  intently  on 
the  beloved  slippers,  and  beating  time  with  the  tray. 

"  Hold,  that  will  do,  my  young  emperor.  Where 
did  you  get  that  tray?" 

"  Off  'm  the  table,  sir-r.  You  tellcd  me  to  fetch  it, 
and  I  'membered  and  fetched  it,"  running  triumphantly 
to  his  master,  and  offering  it  with  a  deep  bow  and 
flourish. 

"But  where  are  the  letters?  Why  didn't  you  put 
the  letters  on  it?  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Kirke,  breaking  into 
immoderate  laughter.  Then,  as  the  child's  eyes  threat 
ened  to  overflow,  "Oh,  well,  never  mind!  The  letter 
without  the  spirit  killeth ;  and  you've  shown  a  noble 
spirit,  my  boy." 

The  pleasant  tone  and  smile  effectually  stayed  the 
infant's  tears  ;  but  he  remained  hopelessly  bewildered 
till  his  master  added,  "Take  the  tray  down  to  the 
parlor,  to  the  pretty  lady  in  the  lace  cap,  and  ask  her 
to  put  rny  letters  on  it ;  and  then  do  you  bring  them 
up,  and  see  how  quick  you  can  be. — What,  Joe? 
Not  going?  Well,  come  again,  and  you  shall  do  the 
talking  next  time." 


12  DRONES'  HONEY. 


II. 

"/  love  tlie  mysteiy  of  a  female  missal." 


BYRON. 


decorative  "  Caligula "  returned,  bearing  a 
tray  full  of  letters,  presenting  it  with  a  bow  so 
profound  that  he  lost  his  balance,  and  fell  headlong 
upon  the  floor.  His  master  threw  him  a  nickel,  de 
clared  he  was  "  the  indispensable  adjunct  of  his  life," 
and  ordered  him  to  "  scamper." 

The  correspondence  was  of  no  especial  interest, 
judging  by  the  indifference  with  which  it  was  received. 
All  business  letters  were  directed  to  the  firm,  and  went 
to  the  office.  These  were  merely  a  few  personal  notes 
of  invitation,  an  upholsterer's  bill,  a  publisher's  reply 
to  a  question  concerning  a  new  book,  and  the  like ; 
nothing  more,  except  one  dainty  missive,  written  on 
cream-tinted  linen  paper,  and  sealed  with  light-blue 
wax,  bearing  the  initial  "  S." 

The  graceful  feminine  hand  was  quite  new  to  Mr. 
Kirke ;  and  he  could  not  recall  at  the  moment  a  single 
one  of  his  lady  acquaintances  whose  surname  began 
with  "  S,"  unless  it  was  Kate  Stanley  whom  he  had 
just  left  down-stairs.  This  certainly  was  not  Kate's 
writing  ;  moreover,  the  letter  was  postmarked  "  Nar- 
ransauc,  Maine."  AVho  ever  heard  of  such  a  town? 
Mr.  Kirke  had  been  something  of  a  traveller  for  a  man 


DRONES'  HONEY.  13 

of  his  3'ears,  but  had  never  visited  Maine  ;  and  it  was 
singular,  to  say  the  least,  that  a  lady  correspondent 
should  suddenly  spring  up  unbidden  from  the  soil  of 
that  rock-bound  State.  She  was  not  a  client :  a  client 
would  have  addressed  the  firm. 

He  held  the  letter  for  some  moments,  rather  re 
luctant  to  break  the  seal,  and  dispel  the  little  charm 
of  mystery.  Perhaps,  after  all,  it  was  one  of  the 
strong-minded,  asking  his  money  or  influence  for  some 
"scheme"  more  or  less  absurd.  He  had  had  his 
share  of  mendicants  begging  for  schemes ;  and  she 
might  have  heard  of  his  gullibility,  though  ignorant, 
it  seemed,  of  the  street  and  number  of  his  residence. 
He  had  no  mind  to  be  softly  entreated :  still  it  was 
necessary  to  open  the  letter,  and  read  what  she  had  to 
say. 

"Mv  DEAK  FRIEND,  —  Forgive  me.  What  have  I  said  or 
done  to  cause  this  mistake  ?  " 

"Oh,  a  mistake,  is  it?  It  looks  like  it,"  thought 
the  reader. 

"  I  did  not  know  what  you  meant  that  night  when  you  put 
the  letter  in  my  hands,  or  I  would  not  have  received  it  as  I 
did." 

"  What  letter?  Who  on  earth  is  she?  "  He  turned 
now  to  the  third  page  for  the  signature. 

"Ever  yours  sincerely, 

EVELYN  S." 

"Why,  the  plot  thickens.  Who  is  Evelyn?  Never 
heard  the  name  outside  of  a  book.  It  would  be  a 


14  DRONES'  HONEY. 

satisfaction  to  know  the  surname,  whether  Smith   or 
Sawyer;  but  it  will  come  to  me  as  I  go  on." 

He  returned  with  increasing  curiosity  to  the  first 
page. 

"  You  say  I  must  have  divined  this.  Indeed  you  are  wrong. 
If  you  had  a  preference  for  either  of  m,  —  mind,  I  say  only  a 
preference,  —  it  was  natural  it  should  he  for  Theodate,  for  it  is 
with  her  you  have  chiefly  conversed;  while  I  have  sat  near, 
listening  or  not,  as  it  chanced,  and  I  confess  often  wrapped  in 
my  own  sad  thoughts.  But  we  are  both  so  much  older  than 
yourself,  that  these  little  conversations  seemed  to  us  the  most 
harmless  things  in  the  world :  it  was  like  two  sisters  chatting 
with  a  younger  brother,  listening  to  his  hopes  and  plans  for  the 
future,  and  giving  in  return  our  sage,  elderly  advice." 

"  Good  soul !  Can't  remember  a  word  of  it !  When 
did  I  ever  meet  these  old  ladies?"  thought  the  young 
man,  with  a  sudden  fear  that  his  mind  was  going. 

"  I  do  not  see  how  you  could  possibly  have  made  this  mis 
take,  when  we  are  each  of  us  more  than  twenty-six  years  old, 
and  you  are  not  twenty-two." 

•"I  am  twent3--five,  my  lady;  but  you  fill  me  with 
terrible  apprehensions.  Am  I  a  discarded  lover?  For 
if  not  B.  I.  Kirke,  who  am  I?  " 

"  We  were  frank  with  you  "  — 

"  We?    It  seems  I  loved  them  both  ! " 

"  But  forgive  me  if  my  great  grief  has  made  me  selfish  and 
thoughtless.  You  are  young,  my  dear  boy,  or  you  would  know 
there  is  more  in  you  than  can  be  killed  by  this." 

"  If  I  have  come  to  death's  door,  it's  high  time  to 
stop.  Of  course  this  is  meant  for  somebody  else  ;  and, 


DRONES'  HONEY.  15 

for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  I've  been  meddling  with 
other  people's  letters." 

He  turned  again  to  the  superscription,  which  seemed 
legible  enough. 

'"  Kirke,  beyond  a  peradventurc.  And  if  that's  not 
a  '  B,'  what  is  it?  '  I '  for  Ingraham,  too :  as  good  an 
'  I '  as  you'll  find  in  the  alphabet.  —  Stop  !  Some  people 
make  a  '  J'  in  that  way  —  I  don't  respect  them  for  it — 
but  she  might  have  meant  it  for  a  '  J.'  Is  there  a  Bar 
tholomew  Jones  Kirke  in  this  city  ?  If  so,  a  heavy  blow 
awaits  him,"  rapidly  turning  the  leaves  of  a  directory. 
"  Poor  boy,  not  twenty-two.  There  are  Kirkes  on 
Blue  Island,  John  and  Peter;  he  may  belong  to  one  of 
those,  not  to  any  of  my  family.  I  don't  see  what  I 
can  do  but  seal  up  the  letter  and  post  it,  and  trust  to 
chance  for  Bartholomew's  getting  it." 

But  he  did  not  seal  it  immediately.  Some  charm, 
either  in  the  subject-matter  or  the  delicate  chirograph}-, 
held  him  spell-bound. 

"  I  don't  understand  her  blundering  so  in  that  super 
scription.  She  has  a  perfect  command  of  the  pen  ; 
not  that  she  really  forms  her  letters  :  who  does?  But 
they  glide  into  one  another  with  such  regularity  that 
the  words  are  unmistakable,  all  but  my  name.  " 

He  strictly  forbore  glancing  at  the  third  page, — 
one  must  draw  the  line  somewhere,  —  but  what  he  had 
already  read  he  re-read,  slowly,  with  thoughtful  eyes, 
and  a  smile  of  genuine  admiration.  Few  young  men, 
perhaps,  have  lingered  with  such  pleasure  over  a  re 
jected  proposal. 

"I'd  like  to  see  how  Kate  Stanley  would  manage  the 
thing!  If  she'd  do  it  so  handsomely,  I'd  almost  — 


1 6  DRONES'  HONEY. 

wouldn't  take  the  risk,  though !  "  with  a  wise  shrug  of 
the  shoulders.  "  Why,  she  actually  begs  pardon  for 
being  so  lovable,  the  charming  creature  !  She  had  no 
wish  to  trifle  with  you,  my  poor  Bartholomew,  and 
you're  the  only  one  to  blame  ;  '  of  this  I'll  put  myself 
on  the  country,'  "  said  the  3"oung  man  in  quaint  law 
phrase.  And  folding  the  enigmatical  letter,  he  re 
placed  it  in  the  envelope,  which  he  sealed  again  with 
blue  wax,  stamping  it  with  a  pictorial  charade,  "  Fare" 
over  an  old-fashioned  well-sweep,  making  the  word 
"Farewell." 

"  That  will  annihilate  him  at  the  outset,  —  if  he  ever 
sees  it,"  dropping  the  letter  into  a  street  mail-box,  and 
keeping  on  to  his  own  office,  which  bore  the  sign  "  Kirke 
&  Randall." 

Mr.  Ephraim  Randall  was  a  gray-haired  man  of 
twenty  years'  experience  in  law  ;  but  his  name  came 
second,  for  he  brought  neither  money  nor  family  influ 
ence  into  the  new  firm,  —  only  unusual  techinal  knowl 
edge,  sound  judgment,  and  a  capacity  for  hard  work. 
He  was  happily  quite  independent  of  his  junior  partner, 
consulting  him  merely  out  of  mock  courtesy  ;  but  it 
did  seem  to  Mr.  Randall,  on  this  particular  afternoon, 
that  the  dullard  might  have  surmised  which  was  the 
plaintiff  in  "  the  Brown  suit  "  without  an  elaborate  ex 
planation,  and  that  he  need  not  have  punned  upon  the 
words  in  such  a  light-minded  way.  Life,  to  Mr.  Ran 
dall,  a  family  man,  was  a  serious  affair,  and  the  very 
breath  of  that  life  was  the  law  ;  and,  when  he  laid  down 
"the  points  of  a  case,"  he  wished  to  be  heard  with 
becoming  respect  and  solemnity.  He  was  pleased  with 
the  partnership,  finding  it  a  great  advantage  to  him- 


DRONES^  HONEY.  I/ 

self;  and  "  j'oung  Kirke  was  never  troublesome,"  so  he 
told  his  wife.  Indeed,  when  he  chose  to  keep  idlers  in 
his  own  private  office,  out  of  the  way  of  the  working 
partner,  he  became  a  positive  help.  Mr.  Randall 
always  spoke  of  him  indulgently,  as  an  "  upright,  well- 
meaning  fellow,"  but  withheld  his  opinion  of  his  intel 
lect.  What,  indeed,  could  he  think  of  a  Iaw37er  who 
actually  wanted  to  keep  his  clients  out  of  most  of  their 
law-suits,  and  would  have  settled  their  disputes  amica 
bly  on  the  spot,  if  he  had  had  his  way  ?  What  excuse 
could  be  made  for  a  young  man  who  did  not  want  to 
take  a  case  "  unless  there  was  justice  in  it;  "  whereas 
every  sane  practitioner  knows  a  case  is  not  tried  in  the 
name  of  justice,  but  in  the  name  of  the  client? 

Ben's  taste  in  reading  was  very  much  against  him. 
Novels  might  be  winked  at:  Mr.  Randall  had  read 
them  himself  in  his  youth,  but  had  never  wasted 
time,  not  he,  on  poetry  —  vaporous  stuff — or  on  sci 
ence,  which  is  equally  unsatisfactory,  and  more  unset 
tling,  tending  directly  to  atheism.  Works  of  this  sort 
were  injuring  the  youth's  brain,  and  unfitting  him  for  the 
solid,  profitable  reading  which  looked  out  so  invitingly 
through  the  glass  doors  of  the  office  library.  The  sen 
ior  partner  pitied  Judge  Kirke  for  the  disappointment 
he  evidently  felt  in  his  son,  but  it  did  not  become  him 
to  discuss  so  delicate  a  subject  with  the  unhappy 
father. 

"  You  took  him  in  with  a  fair  understanding  that 
nothing  was  to  be  expected  of  him.  Still,  I  can't  give 
up  all  hope.  He's  slow  in  developing,  but  I  believe 
there's  the  making  of  a  good  lawyer  in  him,"  sighed 
the  judge,  perversely  resolved  not  to  see  that  his  son 


1 8  DRONES'  HONEY. 

had  been  forced  into  a  position  entirely  unsuited  to  his 
natural  capacity  and  inclination. 

Ben's  private  office,  like  his  apartments  at  home,  was 
elegantly  appointed  ;  and  the  law-books  it  contained 
had  a  well-regulated,  orderly  look,  as  if  held  too  sacred 
for  use.  When  Mr.  Randall  stepped  in  this  afternoon 
to  look  for  a  missing  paper  in  "  the  Brown  suit,"  the 
j'oung  man  had  a  Mitchell's  atlas  on  the  table  before 
him,  and  his  forefinger  was  travelling  carefully  up  and 
down  the  party-colored  map  of  Maine. 

"What  new  notion  is  it?"  thought  the  older  law 
yer,  finding  the  missing  paper  under  a  pile  of  books, 
and  going  quietly  away  with  it,  leaving  the  young  man 
muttering  to  himself,  — 

"  Narransauc?  Narransauc?  Wonder  if  she  got 
that  name  right  any  more  than  B.  I.  Kirke?  —  Yes, 
here  it  is.  Huzza !  An  attractive  little  place,  too, 
sitting  on  a  river-bank,  gazing  at  its  reflection  in  the 
water.  I  like  the  name,  —  Indian,  of  course,  —  and 
"the  chances  are  it's  a  good  place  for  fishing.  Down 
with  Newport,  the  rose  that  all  are  praising !  Let 
James  and  Molly  have  their  party  to  themselves,  since 
they  are  so  l  particular ; '  and  I'll  slip  out  of  the  way 
and  run  up  to  Maine.  Why  have  I  so  neglected  that 
grand  old  State?  It's  becoming  a  famous  resort;  and 
the  seacoast  is  wonderfully  picturesque,  it's  said. 
Mount  Desert — now,  I  half  promised  Danforth  I'd 
go  there  with  him  last  year.  Let's  see,  Narransauc  is 
nowhere  near ;  it's  inland,  and  pretty  well  up  ;  yes,  but 
I  could  take  it  on  the  way.  There  are  ponds  in  the 
neighborhood,  probably,  —  at  any  rate,  brooks,  —  and 
I've  never  yet  had  enough  of  trouting.  —  Randall,"  as 


DRONES'  HONEY.  19 

the  senior  walked  by  the  door,  perusing  a  long  docu 
ment,  "  suppose  I  should  take  a  fancy  to  run  off  for  a 
vacation  earlier  than  usual ;  you'd  find  it  something  of 
a  relief,  wouldn't  you?  Business  wouldn't  suffer?" 

Mr.  Randall's  yellowish  white  visage,  almost  as 
smoothly  polished  as  an  ivory  chess-man,  took  on  a 
smile  of  quiet  amusement,  which  he  was  at  no  pains 
to  conceal. 

"  No,  my  boy  ;  with  the  extra  attention  I  should  be 
obliged  to  devote  to  it,  I  think  we  may  safely  say  our 
business  would  not  suffer  from  your  absence.  But 
where  are  you  going,  and  what's  the  haste?  " 

"Well,  I  was  behind  time  last  year,  and  got  to  the 
Land  of  the  Sky  in  a  crowd  :  so  I  thought  I'd  be  wiser 
this  time,  and  start  before  the  rush.  I  haven't  settled 
on  a  place,  though.  Weren't  Mrs.  Randall  and  the 
girls  rather  enthusiastic  about  Mount  Desert?  " 

"Very,"  returned  Mr.  Randall,  rapt  again  in  the 
Brown  suit,  "  I  think  we  may  safely  say  very." 

The  tone  was  dreamy  and  inexpressive.  Mr.  Kirke 
decided  that  it  would  be  useless  to  seek  further  infor 
mation  from  that  quarter.  Moreover,  he  was  by  no 
means  sure  he  should  go  to  Mount  Desert,  or  even  to 
Maine.  In  fact,  the  Narransauc  plan  was  merel}*  a 
floating  idea,  which  would  have  passed  into  oblivion, 
but  for  the  persistency  with  which  that  letter  kept 
coming  back  to  Mr.  Kirke.  There  seemed  to  be  no 
getting  rid  of  it.  In  vain  it  was  remanded  to  all  the 
city  suburbs,  with  "  mis-sent  "  strongly  italicized  in  the 
corner  ;  in  vain  the  "  I  "  was  transformed  into  a  "  J," 
at  a  venture  :  still,  after  short  intervals  of  searching  for 
another  owner,  the  letter  invariably  returned  ou  that 


20  DRONES'  HONEY. 

silver  tray,  and  was  offered  again  with  the  same  orna 
mental  flourish  by  the  tiny  "  Caligula." 

"How  long  is  it  doomed  to  walk  the  earth?" 
thought  Mr.  Kirke,  enjoying,  at  each  re-appearance,  a 
solitary  laugh ;  for  he  had  confided  the  story  to  no 
one.  "  I've  half  a  mind  to  give  it  a  few  weeks'  rest; 
and  perhaps,  when  I  take  a  trip  to  Maine,  I  can  find 
Miss  Evelyn  and  restore  it  to  her.  Is  she  a  summer 
boarder  at  Narransauc?  That  has  been  my  opinion 
all  along,  and  has  inclined  me  toward  the  town.  Miss 
Evelyn  —  she  seems  to  exist  without  a  surname  —  is 
certainly  refined  and  fastidious,  and  would  not  rusti 
cate  in  a  spot  that  fell  far  short  of  Eden." 

And  all  the  while  Miss  Kate  Stanley  was  dropping 
in  to  lunch  or  dine  with  the  Kirkes,  and  the  Newport 
plan,  never  agreeable  to  the  young  man,  was  growing 
positively  distasteful. 

"  Mother,"  he  announced  one  morning  at  breakfast, 
"  ty"  your  leave  I'm  going  to  take  a  little  run  up  to 
Mount  Desert  or  the  Isles  of  Shoals  before  the  season 
begins." 

The  gentle  lad}'  was  apprehensive  in  a  moment. 

"My  sou,  you  are  not  well.  I  have  feared  you  were 
applying  yourself  too  closely,  and  now  your  appetite 
has  quite  failed,"  said  she  tenderly,  passing  him  the 
honey. 

"He  prefers  drones'  honey;  don't  you,  Ben?" 
asked  Gertrude  slyly,  the  wit  of  the  family. 

The  young  man  looked  up  inquiringly.  The  expres 
sion  was  new  to  him,  but  he  thought  his  sister  could 
not  have  coined  it. 

"  Is  that  one  of  your  learned  quotations?  "  said  he 


DRONES'  HONEY.  21 

with  a  frown  of  annoyance,  for  his  father  was  looking 
on,  evidently  amused  by  his  daughter's  sharpness. 

"  It  has  a  delusive  sound  of  meaning  something," 
said  Lucy  reflectively.  "  Yet  I  don't  see  what  it  can 
mean  but  empty  nothing.  Are  you  going  to  Mount 
Desert  to  gather  drones'  honey,  Ben,  and  then  coming 
to  Newport  to  share  it  with  the  rest  of  the  party?  " 

"  No ;  I  shall  want  every  drop  of  it  myself.  And 
what  made  you  fancy  I  should  turn  up  at  Newport  at 
all?" 

"  Now,  Ben,  j'ou're  not  going  to  be  contrary,  and 
disappoint  us,  after  all  that's  been  said  and  planned !  " 

"  I  don't  remember  that  I've  ever  committed  myself 
to  any  plans,"  replied  the  vexatious  brother  dryly. 
"James  and  Molly  are  said  to  be  very  particular,  and 
I'm  still  more  so,  for  I  choose  to  have  no  company 
but  my  own." 

And  this  was  all  he  would  say  ;  and  the  sympathetic 
mother  pondered  over  it,  suspecting  some  underlying 
meaning  that  involved  annoyance  with  Kate ;  but  she 
wisely  refrained  from  comment. 

"  It's  one  of  his  odd  notions.  He  has  taken  his 
camera  and  gone  off  to  Maine  just  to  tease  us,"  ex 
plained  Gertrude  to  the  discomfited  Miss  Stanley. 

"  Yes ;  but  he'll  join  us  at  Newport,  you  may 
be  very  sure  of  that,"  added  peace-making  Lucy. 
"  There's  one  thing  to  be  said  of  Ben  :  he's  always  a 
great  deal  better  than  his  word." 


22  DRONES'  HONEY. 


III. 

"  From  the  dusty  path  there  opens 
Eastward  an  unknown  way." 


BRYANT. 


"  T  WOULD  be  greatly  obliged  to  any  one  who 
-L  would  tell  me  just  where  I  am  going,  and  what 
I  intend  to  do  after  I  arrive  there,"  mused  Mr.  Kirke, 
under  his  travelling-cap,  as  the  cars  rattled  along 
through  a  stretch  of  level  country  in  the  very  heart 
of  Maine. 

The  morning  had  been  closely  veiled  in  white ;  but 
it  was  now  past  noon,  the  sky  was  of  a  clear  and 
vivid  blue,  and  the  sunshine  fell  warmly  on  the  quiet 
green  fields  and  on  the  old  farmhouses,  which  turned 
their  backs  derisively  upon  the  railroad,  unwilling 
to  countenance  the  frivolity  of  the  travelling-world. 
Ghosts  of  departed  dandelions  haunted  the  wayside ; 
feathered  pollen  sailed  aimlessly  through  the  summer 
air ;  a  bee  emerged  from  a  buttercup,  having  drained 
it  of  its  last  drop  of  waiting  honey. 

"  The  sunshine  and  the  green  fields  seem  to  have 
reached  a  mutual  understanding,  but  they  answer  none 
of  my  questions.  Is  there  a  bureau  of  information, 
I  wonder,  at  any  of  these  stations,  that  will  kindly 
enlighten  me?  Eighty  miles  farther  to  Narransauc," 
consulting  his  guide-book. 


DRONES'  HONEY.  23 

And  then  he  looked  out  of  the  window  at  a  brown 
hen  meandering  through  the  tall  grass  of  a  meadow, 
now  partially  hidden,  now  emerging,  pecking  leisurely 
at  the  bowing  clover-tops. 

"  The  settlements  seem  to  be  growing  rather  sparse  ; 
but,  then,  the  rail  always  runs  through  the  dullest  part 
of  the  country,"  said  he,  rousing  himself,  and  looking 
about  upon  his  fellow-passengers,  whom  he  had 
hitherto  regarded  with  scarcely  any  human  interest. 

The  car  had  not  been  well  filled  at  the  outset,  and 
b}'  this  time  half  the  occupants  had  dropped  off  at  the 
various  stations  on  the  way. 

"  It's  a  dreadful  warm  day  for  June,"  he  heard  a 
woman  just  behind  him  announce  in  thunder-tones  to 
a  neighbor  across  the  aisle,  who  responded  with  a 
sympathetic  nod  of  her  aged  but  well-preserved  bonnet. 
"Just  the  weather  for  cheese,  and  no  weather  at  all 
for  butter."  And  after  a  pause,  "How's  Sabriua? 
I  hear  she  ain't  verj1  rugged." 

"Well,  she  ain't,  that's  a  fact.  Appetite's  poor. 
"Won't  eat  a  morsel  of  breakfast,  without  it's  a  piece 
of  mince-pie." 

Mr.  Kirke  cast  an  unmeaning  smile  toward  the  land 
scape.  This  was  the  first  scrap  of  provincial  dialect 
that  had  met  his  ears,  the  first  reminder  of  his  arrival 
in  the  region  of  "  perpetual  pie." 

"Is  this  a  foreshadowing  of  my  bill  of  fare?  It's 
high  time  I  should  make  acquaintance  with  some  one, 
and  inquire  as  to  the  resources  of  Narransauc.  It 
would  refresh  me  to  know  for  a  certainty  that  it  has  a 
hotel.  Wonder  if  there  is  anybody  in  the  car  who 
would  be  likely  to  know?  " 


24  DRONES'  HONEY. 

In  the  scat  before  him  sat  a  rather  rustic-looking 
man,  beside  a  well-dressed  young  woman  with  an  infant 
in  her  arms.  Absorbed  in  his  own  thoughts,  Mr. 
Kirke  had  not  noticed  the  eager  gestures  the  baby  was 
making  in  his  own  direction. 

"  No,  no,  Mamie  ;  no,  no,"  pleaded  the  mother  in  a 
gentle,  reasoning  tone,  as  if  she  regarded  the  little 
creature  as  a  responsible  but  misguided  human  being. 

The  woman's  profile  was  delicately  cut,  with  a  low 
brow,  piquant  nose,  and  sensitive  mouth.  The  man 
was  older,  and  evidently  of  inferior  cla}r,  —  his  features 
coarse  and  noticeably  one-sided,  his  gestures  uncouth 
and  angular. 

"She  must  have  married  him  in  a  fit  of  humility, 
poor  girl !  "  thought  our  3~oung  lawyer.  "  His  hair  is 
as  rough  as  a  besom,  and  there's  a  glint  of  white  in  it, 
suggesting  that  he  is  no  longer  young :  so,  I  dare  say, 
this  is  his  second  wife.  What  is  it  Boswell  says  of 
second  marriages?  They  are  'experience  overcome 
by  hope.'  A  lively  hope  for  him,  in  this  case;  but 
think  of  her  despair  !  Wish  she'd  turn  her  head.  If 
I  could  get  a  full  view  of  her  face,  I  could  tell  whether 
she's  the  sort  of  woman  to  let  her  husband  know  she 
repents,  or  whether  she's  an  angel  and  tries  to  spare 
his  feelings.'' 

His  wish  was  unexpectedly  gratified.  The  baby, 
who  had  long  been  coveting  his  watch-seal,  now  made 
a  sudden  dash  for  it,  and  would  have  plunged  head 
long,  if  the  mother  had  not  turned  quickly,  and  ar 
rested  the  tiny  thief  with  the  strong  arm  of  the  law. 

"No,  no,  baby  must  not  have  it:  it  belongs  to  the 
gentleman,"  said  mamma  correctively,  at  the  same 


DRONES1  HONEY.  2$ 

•time  glancing  at  the  owner  of  the  watch  with  a  pretty 
blush  of  apology. 

It  was  but  for  a  moment,  and  then  her  face  was 
turned  away  again,  and  she  and  papa  were  laughing 
over  naughty  baby's  kleptomania ;  and  naughty  baby 
was  given  an  orange,  as  a  preventive  of  tears  and 
other  unpleasant  demonstrations  likely  to  follow  her 
chagrin  at  the  uncompleted  robbery.  Mr.  Kirke  had 
had  but  a  glimpse  of  the  mother's  face,  yet  it  was 
enough  to  justify  and  confirm  his  previous  admiration. 

"  Whry,  it's  like  a  fleeting,  beautiful  dream!  It  is 
like  one  of  the  lost  loves  of  the  poets.  Where  did 
she  get  that  look  of  exquisite  refinement,  —  the  wife 
of  a  country  lout  ?  ' ' 

Baby,  resenting  the  interference  of  justice,  and 
spurning  the  orange  as  an  iguoble  substitute  for  the 
bright  gem,  was  screaming  by  this  time  indignantly  ; 
and  the  father,  in  the  desperate,  energetic  fashion 
common  to  his  incapable  sex,  was  dancing  her  up  and 
down,  and  whistling  quite  ineffectually.  The  mother's 
crimson,  perplexed  face  appealed  to  Mr.  Kirke's  chiv 
alry. 

44  Here,  here !  Don't  let  the  little  thing  cry  like 
that,"  he  exclaimed,  leaning  forward,  and  hurriedly 
tossing  over  both  watch  and  seal.  If  it  had  been  a 
priceless  diamond,  he  would  have  done  the  same.  An 
infant  was  to  him  a  species  of  dangerous  maniac,  to 
be  soothed  and  suppressed  at  all  hazards. 

The  mother  bent  her  graceful  neck  in  acknowledg 
ment  ;  while  the  terrible  child  seized  the  seal  with 
what  the  young  man  could  not  but  regard  as  demoni 
acal  glee,  crunched  it  between  her  wan  toil  little  teeth, 


26  DRONES'  HONEY. 

and  would  have  made  a  meal  of  the  watch  also,  if  the 
prudent  father  had  not  hidden  it  in  his  huge,  plebeian 
hand. 

"Much  obliged,"  said  he,  turning  half  around  to 
Mr.  Kirke,  though  never  losing  sight  of  the  little  cor 
morant.  "  She  can't  keep  her  eyes  open  much  longer  ; 
and,  when  she  dozes  off,  you  shall  have  your  property 
back  again." 

"  Was  this  the  child's  usual  method  of  going  to 
sleep?  If  she  could  shriek  like  this  when  '  dozing  off,' 
what  must  be  the  pitch  of  her  voice  when  fully 
awake?"  queried  the  young  man,  regarding  her  with 
astonishment  not  unmixed  with  respect.  But,  as  he 
gazed,  behold  those  infantile  orbs  fast  withdrawing 
behind  their  fringed  curtains,  those  white  teeth  gradu 
ally  loosing  their  hold  of  the  choice  golden  morsel ; 
till  at  last  the  watch  slips  from  the  drooping  mouth, 
and  the  vanquished  rebel  lets  her  weary  flaxen  head 
fall  confidingly  upon  the  paternal  shoulder.  It  was 
not  to  be  denied  that  in  sleep  she  made  a  prctt}'  pic 
ture.  One  plump  hand  softly  pressed  papa's  whiskers, 
the  other  fell  like  a  careless  rose-petal  over  his  coat- 
collar  ;  while  the  rest  of  her  little  person  lay  prone 
across  his  breast,  with  one  unguarded  foot  partially 
lodged  in  his  vest-pocket.  Under  these  circumstances, 
she  was  beyond  criticism  ;  and  the  young  man  forgave 
all  her  waking  sins,  for  the  pleasure  she  afforded  him 
by  her  inimitable  pose. 

Not  so  the  mother :  scarcely  looking  at  her  beautiful 
offspring,  she  took  a  book  from  her  satchel  and  began 
to  read,  turning  the  pages  slowly  with  a  neatly  gloved 
finger.  The  cars  clattered  and  bounced,  baby  stirred 


DKOXES'  HONEY.  2/ 

and  moaned,  the  father  restored  the  watch  and  chain 
to  the  owner  with  sundry  comments  ;  but  still  the  un 
natural  mother  read  on.  Into  what  far-away  land  of 
romance  was  she  drifting?  What  writer  was  magician 
enough  to  deaden  her  to  the  common  distractions  of 
travel ;  above  all,  to  cause  her  to  forget  her  own  child  ? 

Mr.  Kirke  was  himself  a  dreamer  and  a  novel- 
reader,  but  he  hardly  liked  to  see  a  mother  so  al>- 
sorbed  :  it  augured  ill  for  her  children  and  home,  lie 
wished  he  could  make  out  the  title  of  the  book ;  he 
hoped  it  was  not  exactly  trash.  The  woman  was  beau 
tiful  and  had  interested  him :  he  did  not  like  to  find 
her  downright  commonplace,  like  her  husband.  By  an 
adroit  forward  movement  of  his  head  while  dropping  the 
window-blind,  he  secured  a  sidewise  peep  over  her  shoul 
der.  She  was  reading  the  "  Imitation  of  Christ."  So 
that  was  the  sort  of  light  literature  she  carried  with  her 
in  the  cars  ?  Well,  there  was  a  certain  fitness  in  it ;  for 
the  unfortunate  mother  of  such  a  child  would  naturally 
stand  in  peculiar  need  of  religious  consolation.  Still 
he  did  not  remember  to  have  observed  any  thing  of 
the  sort  in  his  travels  heretofore.  She  was  no  ordi 
nary  person,  as  he  had  said  from  the  first ;  and  here 
after  he  should  have  great  respect  for  his  own  intuitive 
judgments. 

Presently  an  urchin  appeared  in  the  aisle,  bearing  a 
basket  of  mixed  refreshments.  The  husband  bought 
some  "  pop-corn,"  and,  after  nibbling  a  few  kernels, 
tossed  the  bag  into  his  wife's  lap,  declaring  he 
"couldn't  make  an}r  hand  eating  'em,  his  teeth  were 
so  scattering."  But  even  this  failed  to  arouse  her. 
She  nodded  carelessly,  and  turned  another  leaf.  The 


28  DRONES'  HONEY. 

husband's  small  brown  eyes  twinkled  with  fun  as  he 
nodded  to  Mr.  Kirke. 

"  You  see,  mister,  she's  so  taken  up  with  that  book, 
that  she's  kind  of  oblivious.  That's  just  her  way.  I 
told  'em  she'd  forget  there  was  a  baby  aboard,  and  if 
we  got  it  alive  to  Narransauc,  'twould  be  no  thanks  to 
her. ' ' 

Mr.  Kirke  looked  his  surprise  at  this  extraordinary 
speech ;  but  the  mother  had  not  heard  it,  apparently. 

"Did  you  speak  to  me?  Shall  I  take  the  baby 
now?"  she  asked,  without,  however,  dropping  the 
book. 

Mr.  Crabtree's  eyes  twinkled  again,  and  he  gave  Mr. 
Kirke  a  tolerably  full  view  of  his  "  scattering  teeth." 

"  This  little  one's  folks  is  dead,  and  we're  fetching 
of  it  home  to  its  grandmother,"  he  explained. 

"Ah?    Very  kind  of  you,  certainly." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  how  we  could  have  done  any 
other  ways.  You  see,  I  was  off  to  a  church  conven 
tion  at  Bath,  and  my  wife  wrote  and  asked  if  I  couldn't 
contrive  it  somehow." 

"Your  wife!  " 

The  exclamation  was  involuntary. 

"  Yes ;  and  she  wrote  to  Evelyn  too,  —  Evelyn  was 
up  to  Boston  —  and  asked  her  if  she'd  meet  me  at 
Potter's  Junction,  and  help  along  with  the  baby." 

"Evelyn?" 

There  was  more  than  surprise  in  the  young  man's 
tones  now :  there  was  something  like  awe.  Had  he 
found  the  author  of  that  mysterious  migratory  letter 
which  was  lying  in  his  breast-pocket  awaiting  an  owner? 

"  Evelyn,  did  you  say?  " 


DROXES*  HONEY.  29 

t 

The  young  lady  turned  quickly  on  hearing  her  name 
pronounced  by  a  stranger.  She  had  taken  the  baby, 
and  was  administering  to  it  a  cooky,  by  instalments. 

"  Why,  yes,  this  is  Evelyn,  — Miss  Searle,  I  should 
say.  Shall  I  make  you  acquainted  with  Miss  Seaiie?  " 
added  Mr.  Crabtree,  proud  of  himself  for  recollecting 
his  manners ;  for  in  his  code  politeness  required  him 
to  introduce  his  lady  friend  to  any  one  with  whom  he 
happened  to  have  a  few  moments'  conversation.  He 
had  already  "made  her  acquainted  "  with  sundry  un 
known  people,  who  had  merely  bowed  in  acknowledg 
ment,  without  divulging  their  own  names  or  places  of 
residence.  But  Mr.  Kirke  seemed  fully  impressed 
with  the  honor  done  him,  doffing  his  travelling-cap  in 
the  most  courtly  manner,  and  begging  leave  to  present 
his  card  to  both  parties. 

Miss  Searle  accepted  hers  graciously,  but  with  a 
slight  air  of  reserve,  letting  it  fall  unheeded  in  her 
lap.  It  was  plain  that  she  knew  better  than  to  relish 
being  thrust  in  this  compulsory  way  upon  the  notice  of 
an  entire  stranger.  Possibly  her  disapproval  blinded 
her  judgment  in  dividing  the  cooky ;  for  she  meted 
out  too  liberal  a  share,  and  the  covetous  baby  re 
ceived  it  into  an  already  overburdened  mouth,  with  the 
result  which  might  have  been  expected,  —  coughing, 
wheezing,  and  other  symptoms  of  strangulation.  Miss 
Searle  was  terrified ;  but  Mr.  Crabtree  rose  to  the 
occasion,  laughed  derisively,  seized  the  stricken  baby, 
and  patted  it  on  the  back  with  all  the  unconcern  of 
the  father  of  a  family,  who  has  performed  the  like 
office  for  six  infant  victims  in  due  succession,  and  thinks 
nothing  of  it. 


30  DRONES'  HONEY. 

"There,  there,  now  go  back  to  her,  sonny,  and  tell 
her  not  to  abuse  you  again.  —  Strange  how  I  keep  call 
ing  of  her  a  boy  !  You  see  my  three  youngest  are  all 
boys,  so  it  comes  kind  of  natural,"  addressing  Mr. 
Kirke  once  more,  unconsciously  attracted  by  such  a 
good  listener. 

"Will  you  not  come  here  and  share  my  seat," 
suggested  the  young  man  thoughtfully,  "  and  give  the 
young  lady  more  room  for  the  child?  " 

"That's  a  good  notion  of  yours,  sir.  Thank  you, 
don't  care  if  I  do,"  returned  Mr.  Crabtree,  complying 
at  once.  He  had  not  fancied  the  stranger's  appear 
ance,  considering  him  "  too  lazy  to  breathe, — one  of 
these  pompous  fellows  that  own  half  the  railroad, 
likely  enough,  riding  round  on  a  free  pass  ;  "  but,  find 
ing  him  so  civil-spoken  and  agreeable,  Mr.  Crabtree 
concluded  that  it  would  be  no  more  than  fair  to  reveal 
to  him  his  own  name,  and  perhaps  entertain  him  with 
a  little  light  conversation. 

"My  name's  Crabtree,  sir,"  shoving  himself  into 
the  seat  as  clumsily  as  if  he  had  been  one  of  his  own 
cartloads  of  gravel.  "Yes,  you  see  this  little  tot's 
father  and  mother  belonged  to  our  town,  and  was  both 
drowned  first  of  the  month  up  to  Moosehead.  Can't 
see  what  possessed  'em  to  go  out  in  a  birch  canoe 
without  an  Injun  to  paddle.  Ever  see  one  o'  them 
birches?  As  tittlish  as  an  egg-shell.  Have  to  part 
your  hair  in  the  middle  before  you  venture  aboard,  and 
then  hold  your  breath  till  you  strike  shore.  Lots  of 
folks,  first  and  last,  gets  upsot  in  them  birches  ;  but 
I  never  thought  it  of  Eb  Wood.  He  ain't  in  the  habit 
of  going  up  there,  either.  But  they  both  took  a  notion 


DRONES'  HONEY.  31 

to  go  and  see  her  brother  Jeff ;  and  then  next  thing 
this  happened,  and  they  were  fetched  down  here  to  be 
buried.  I  tell  you  'twas  a  pretty  solemn  funeral,  —  a 
young  couple  so,  with  this  one  child ;  but  they  were 
both  of  'em  church-members,  and  prepared,  as  we 
hope,  for  the  great  change.  Miss  Plummer  of  Bath 
came  and  took  the  baby  home,  but  on  account  of  sick 
ness  in  the  family  couldn't  keep  it  any  longer ;  and 
we're  fetching  of  it  back  to  the  old  folks.  — Look  out, 
Evelyn,  can't  you  get  his  mind  off  of  eating?  His 
grandma' am  will  be  disappointed  if  he  don't  call  for 
his  supper  when  he  gets  there.  She'll  have  it  all 
ready.  — Beats  all,"  he  added,  with  a  confidential  drop 
ping  of  the  voice  and  partial  closing  of  the  left  eye, 
"beats  all  what  a  difference  there  is  in  folks.  Now, 
there's  my  wife  ;  if  I  had  her  along  with  me,  I  shouldn't 
be  bothering  my  head  about  that  young  one.  I  never 
saw  a  child  so  full  of  mischief  to  the  square  inch,  or 
such  a  catawauler ;  but  my  wife  could  fix  it  up  all 
complete,  and  no  help  needed." 

Mr.  Kirke  sincerely  wished  the  capable  Mrs.  Crab- 
tree  was  "  along,"  and  pitied  poor,  tired  Miss  Searle 
with  all  his  heart. 

"  The  child  seems  to  have  extraordinary  lungs,  and 
a  furious  temper ;  but  I  believe  such  things  indicate 
teeth,"  said  he  sarcastically.  Then,  after  a  pause, 
"Do  I  understand  you,  Mr.  Crabtree,  that  you  are 
going  to  Narransauc?  The  fact  is,  I  am  going  there 
myself." 

"You  don't  say  so!  —  Hear  that,  Evelyn?"  said 
Mr.  Crabtree  with  a  resounding  laugh,  which  awak 
ened  the  suspicion  in  Mr.  Kirke's  mind  that  Narran- 


32  DRONES'  HONEY. 

sauc  was  by  no  means  a  popular  resort.  Miss  Searle 
flashed  him  a  side  smile,  and  the  orphaned  baby 
reached  over  her  shoulder  and  maliciously  showered  a 
handful  of  cooky-crumbs  on  his  knee. 

"  Kirke,  Kirke,  —  none  related  to  our  Kirkes,  I 
guess?  "  said  Mr.  Crabtree  with  another  laugh.  "  No, 
I  thought  not.  There's  a  family  of  that  name  in 
town  —  a  shiftless  set.  They'll  all  play  cards  and 
smoke,  if  not  drink." 

"  Have  you  any  hotels?  "  asked  Mr.  Kirke. 

There  was  no  reply,  but  a  long  pause,  during  which 
the  young  man  felt  that  he  was  undergoing  scrutiny. 

"  Maybe  you've  got  some  interest  in  our  stone-quar 
ries?  Folks  come  here  from  quite  a  distance  after 
grave-stones;  considered  the  best  granite  you'll  find 
in  the  New-England  States." 

The  young  man  smiled  indolently ;  but,  before  he 
could  plead  not  guilty  of  travelling  in  behalf  of  a 
cemetery,  Mr.  Crabtree  had  hazarded  another  conjec 
ture. 

"  Word  has  gone  out,  so  I've  heard  lately,  that  our 
railroad  bonds  are  good  for  nothing ;  and  I've  rather 
expected  a  lot  of  sharpers  would  be  along  buying  of 
'em  up  for  a  speculation.  But  they'll  miss  their  guess, 
for  the  bonds  are  pretty  nigh  up  to  par."  This  with  a 
shrewd,  good-humored  snapping  of  the  tiny  brown 
orbs,  as  if  to  warn  the  Chicago  lawyer  that  his  crafty 
designs  were  foreseen  and  circumvented. 

"Oh,  well,  as  for  myself,  I'm  merely  taking  a  run 
up  here  for  amusement!  "  returned  the  young  man, 
directing  a  look  of  supreme  innocence  toward  the 
back  of  Miss  Searle's  bonnet.  What  a  heavy  coil  of 


HONEY.  33 

fair  hair,  and  how  well  her  head  was  set  on  her 
shoulders ! 

"Is  your  scenery  really  so  fine,  Mr.  Crabtree?" 
Narransauc  might  be  set  in  a  sandbank,  for  aught  he 
knew  to  the  contrary ;  but  it  is  always  safe  to  say 
"  scenery  "  to  a  resident. 

A  light  broke  over  Mr.  Crabtree's  crooked  face. 
"Well,  they  do  say  you  scarce  ever  saw  a  prettier 
place  than  what  ours  is  in  the  summer  season.  — That's 
so,  ain't  it,  Evelyn?" 

"  Indeed  it  is,"  replied  the  young  lady,  with  another 
tantalizing  side  smile.  Perhaps  she  knew  her  profile 
was  worth  studying. 

" There's  Vi'let  Hill,  and  there's  the  Cascade;  and 
if  you  come  just  a'purpose  for  the  scenery —  Can't 
contrive,  though,  where  you've  heard  so  much  about 
us,"  went  on  Mr.  Crabtree  inquiringly.  "Any  ac 
quainted  with  folks  that's  been  this  way?  We've  had 
a  plenty  of  'em,  to  be  sure. — Oh,  maybe  you've  got 
word  of  our  mineral  spring  ?  That's  up  in  my  orchard  : 
been  analyzed  by  Professor  What's-name  in  Bruns 
wick  ;  and  I  won't  undertake  to  tell  the  ingredients,  but 
it's  good  for  any  number  of  complaints." 

"I  think  I'm  more  interested  in  your  —  your  fish 
ing,"  said  Mr.  Kirke  at  a  bold  venture. 

"Yes,  yes;  that's  so, — our  ponds.  Well,  we've 
got  three,  with  more  perch  and  pickerel  in  'em  than 
you  can  shake  a  stick  at,  —  not  to  mention  the  trout- 
brook  in  Cobb's  meadow." 

Mr.  Kirke  sat  bolt  upright.  Had  Providence  chosen 
to  smile  on  his  wild  undertaking?  Were  all  things  con 
spiring  to  render  it  a  reasonable,  every-day  affair  ?  Here 


34  DRONES'  HONEY. 

he  had  pricked  forth  into  the  desert ;  and  lo,  it  was 
blossoming  like  the  rose  !  "  Kirke's  luck,"  he  thought, 
smiling.  "  I'm  delighted  to  hear  my  good  opinion  of 
your  fishing  confirmed,  Mr.  Crabtree.  And  now,  if 
you  will  please  inform  me  how  many  hotels  you  have, 
and  which  is  the  best  one,  I'll  be  greatly  indebted." 

He  was  still  sitting  upright  and  alert,  and  Mr.  Crab- 
tree  looked  at  him  with  growing  respect. 

"Well,  there's  two  in  the  place;  but  there's  only 
one  where  you'd  want  to  put  up,  and  that's  the  Druid. 
Follow  along  from  the  deep-o  to  the  bridge  hill ;  or 
you  better  take  a  hack,  if  you  ain't  used  to  walking. 
You'll  find  Mrs.  Simpson  a  complete  good  cook,  and 
the  table  always  sot  with  sarse,"  drawing  his  crooked 
mouth  around  to  the  left  side,  as  if  to  close  the  sub 
ject,  his  usual  method  of  marking  a  double  period. 

Another  hour  elapsed,  during  which  the  infant  showed 
signs  of  utter  depravity,  and  Miss  Searle's  face  like 
a  blush-rose  "  drooped  o'er  the  infant  bud  "  in  mortifi 
cation  and  despair.  This  was  too  much  for  Mr.  Kirke's 
humanity ;  and,  as  Mr.  Crabtree  looked  on  in  indiffer 
ence,  he  begged  the  privilege  of  taking  the  unhappy 
child  himself,  and  carrying  it  up  and  down  the  aisle  for 
change  of  scene.  This  was  of  course  for  the  relief  of 
the  young  lady,  who  seemed  duly  grateful ;  but  Mr. 
Crabtree  laughed  as  heartily  as  if  Mr.  Kirke  and  the 
baby  were  perambulating  for  his  amusement.  The 
young  man  ought  to  have  been  insensible  to  ridicule, 
but  I  fear  he  was  not.  I  fear  his  sentiments  toward 
the  hilarious  Mr.  Crabtree  were  realty  vindictive,  all 
the  more  as  the  baby  plucked  at  his  hair  in  a  manner 
that  attracted  marked  attention  from  the  passengers. 


DRONES'  HONEY.  35 

Fortunately  the  end  of  the  journey  was  near,  and 
Mr.  Crabtree  soon  announced  that  Narransauc  was  in 
sight. 

"  I  presume  you'd  like  to  have  me  name  some  of  the 
residences,"  said  he,  pointing  an  obliging  forefinger 
toward  the  distant  landscape. 

Mr.  Kirke  planted  the  hindering  baby  on  the  seat, 
and  looked  out. 

"Over  yonder,  top  o'  that  hill,  you  see  a  house? 
—  brick,  painted  a  kind  o'  reddish  brown,  trimmings  a 
little  darker?  You  can't  see  it  so  well  as  you  ought 
to,  on  account  of  the  trees.  Well,  that's  where  Eve 
lyn  —  Miss  Searle  —  lives.  —  Look  out,  Evelyn,  there's 
somebody  at  your  house  shaking  a  handkerchief  ;  guess 
it's  Theodate." 

"Theodate?"  thought  the  young  man.  "She  is 
an  old  acquaintance  ;  I'd  like  to  see  her  myself." 

Miss  Searle  had  sprung  up  eagerly,  and  was  gazing 
out.  Far  away  amid  the  mass  of  coloring  could  be 
very  faintly  discerned  a  blotch  of  white ;  and  toward 
this  dim  object,  the  supposititious  handkerchief  of 
Theodate,  she  shook  her  own  handkerchief  with  a  smile 
and  nod.  Mr.  Kirke  commiserated  Theodate,  because 
she  lost  the  smile.  It  was  not  like  the  one  he  had 
received  from  the  same  source  a  little  while  ago,  —  a 
merely  conventional  ripple,  playing  for  a  moment  on 
the  surface  :  this  smile  was  the  real  thing  ;  it  rose  glow 
ing  from  the  heart,  and  suffused  the  whole  face  with 
warmth  and  light. 

"You  live  in  a  sightly  place,  Evelyn;  only  you 
ought  to  have  some  of  them  big  trees  cut  down.  In 
my  opinion,  they  kind  of  pizen  the  land.  That  used  to 


36  DRONES'  HONEY. 

be  a  great  house  for  young  men  to  go  calling,  —  before 
her  sisters  were  married  off,"  added  Mr.  Crabtree  with 
an  explanatory  wink  toward  Mr.  Kirke.  "  But  there's 
no  great  of  a  rush  round  there  now,  as  I've  heard  of. 
Look  out,  Evelyn,  or  you  and  Theodate  will  both  be 
turning  the  old  maid's  corner." 

This  coarse  raillery,  so  odious  to  a  person  of  ordin- 
ary  refinement,  caused  Miss  Searle  to  shrink  away  from 
the  window,  with  a  slight,  tremulous  swaying  of  the 
neck,  like  the  recoil  of  a  sensitive  plant  at  the  touch 
of  a  hand. 

Mr.  Kirke  was  so  incensed  by  Mr.  Crabtree' s  brutal 
ity,  that  in  revenge  he  handed  him  the  baby. 

And  as  they  had  now  arrived  at  the  station,  he  has 
tened,  with  his  courtliest  bow,  to  proffer  his  services  to 
Miss  Searle ;  feeling  it  a  privilege  to  let  her  see,  that, 
though  somewhat  awkward  as  a  baby's  nurse,  there 
were  yet  some  things  he  could  do  with  absolutely  fault 
less  grace. 


DRONES'  HONEY.  37 


IV. 

"  TJie  bee, 

All  dusty  as  a  miller,  takes  his  toll 
Of  powdery  gold,  and  yrumbles.     What  d  day 

To  sun  me  and  do  nothing  !" 

LOWELL. 

MR.  KIRKE  stood  on  the  platform  of  the  little 
station,  gazing  after  his  late  travelling-com 
panions,  till  a  thick  cloud  of  dust  wrapped  them  from 
sight,  like  the  fabled  cap  of  invisibility.  Narran- 
sauc  seemed  to  be  one  of  the  quiet,  unknown  towns 
aptly  described  as  "geographical  expressions,"  with 
no  particular  "scenery"  so  far  discoverable,  except 
clumps  of  trees,  a  sandy  soil,  and  the  hint  of  a  dark 
river  glooming  somewhere  in  the  background  be3'ond 
a  wooded  slope. 

The  station  had  a  subdued  air,  suggesting  that  busi 
ness  was  allowed  to  interfere  as  little  as  possible  with 
repose.  There  was  a  drowsy  hum  of  talk  between  the 
baggage-master  and  an  express-agent ;  while  the  hack- 
man  of  the  "  Druid,"  and  the  hackman  of  the  "  Nar- 
ransauc,"  exchanged  a  few  dry  jokes  with  another 
driver,  mounted  on  the  Latium  stage.  The  chief 
liveliness  of  the  scene  was  due  to  two  young  children, 
a  boy  and  girl,  who  quarrelled  over  a  banana,  and 
both  fell  to  wailing,  with  their  heads  against  the  out 
side  corner  of  the  building ;  reminding  Mr.  Kirke  of 


38  DRONES'  HONEY. 

the  "Jews  weeping  at  the  walls  of  Jerusalem,"  — 
a  sight  familiar  in  his  Eastern  travels. 

"  So  this  is  Narrausatic ;  a  handful  of  houses,  a 
church,  —  there  must  be  a  church  somewhere,  —  a 
blacksmith's  shop,  and  it  seems  two  hotels,"  thought 
our  tourist,  handing  his  fishing-tackle  to  the  driver,  and 
entering  the  Druid  coach,  the  sole  passenger. 

It  was  impossible  not  to  feel  a  little  vexed  with  him 
self.  Why  had  he  selected  this  dull  hollow,  instead  of 
one  of  the  really  choice  resorts  so  thickly  scattered 
over  New  England  ?  But  he  had  not  ridden  far  before 
his  mood  changed.  As  they  ascended  the  "  bridge 
hill,"  commanding  a  view  of  the  village,  behold  a  lovely, 
sparkling  river  with  wooded  banks,  a  long,  wide  stretch 
of  meadow,  and  on  three  sides  bold  mountains  rising 
blue  in  the  distance  ! 

"  This  will  do  for  me,"  he  said  with  a  smile  of  con 
tent.  "  Let  James  and  Molly  have  Newport  to  them 
selves.  Is  that  Miss  Searle's  home,  that  hill  over 
there,  where  the  purple  light  falls?  And  are  Evelyn 
and  Theodate  twin-sisters?  Evelyn  is  a  saint,  en 
shrined  in  purple  light.  Naturally  she  travels  with  a 
Prayer-Book,  has  outgrown  lovers,  and  begs  pardon 
for  being  so  lovable.  I  can  understand  it  now :  it  is 
the  environment.  I  can  see  how  she  looked  when  she 
wrote  to  my  double  ;  just  as  she  looked  when  she  rea 
soned  with  that  baby :  in  short,  like  an  angel.  But 
I'm  not  sure  I  fancy  angels  ;  on  the  whole,  I  give  the 
preference  to  mortals.  Shall  I  ever  see  her  again? 
She  scarcely  looked  at  me,  and  never  uttered  a  word, 
till  I  took  that  imp  of  a  baby.  Wouldn't  know  me 
again,  doesn't  remember  my  name,  and  hasn't  kept 


DRONES'  HONEY.  39 

my  card.  Not  flattering.  Perhaps  the  twin-sister  is 
less  heavenly.  I'd  like  to  see  Theodate." 

The  Druid  was  a  spacious  hotel,  built  a  century  ago, 
when  the  town  was  young  and  precocious,  holding  out 
a  delusive  promise  of  growth.  The  massive  doors  had 
heavy  iron  latches,  and  the  front  one  a  knocker  as  ag 
gressive  as  a  war-club.  The  yellow  glory  of  the  large 
hall  floor  was  obscured  here  and  there  by  braided 
woollen  mats.  Mr.  Kirke's  arrival  was  apparently  a 
surprise ;  for  the  sleepy,  portly,  baldheaded  landlord 
met  him  with  a  stare,  and,  instead  of  greeting  him,  said 
to  the  porter  who  was  setting  down  the  luggage,  — 

"When  are  the  old  doctor's  remains  going  to  be 
fetched?" 

"  To-morrow  mornin'." 

"We  were  looking  for  a  corpse  to-night,"  was  the 
landlord's  cheerful  explanation  to  Mr.  Kirke,  who 
bowed  meekly,  and  entered  the  office,  feeling  that  he 
was  a  disappointment  at  the  outset,  a  poor  substitute 
indeed  for  the  expected  "  remains." 

The  floor  of  the  office  was  of  the  same  radiant  hue  as 
the  hall,  but  so  warped  that  all  the  chairs  halted  on  three 
legs  and  held  up  the  fourth,  like  a  flock  of  lame  sheep. 

"Pretty  hot,  ain't  it,  though?"  quoth  the  landlord 
sociably,  recovering  in  a  measure  from  his  sense  of 
injury  regarding  the  deceased  doctor,  and  smiling  as 
he  entered  a  grated  enclosure  used  as  a  desk.  Behind 
this  grating  his  departed  grandsire  had  once  stood, 
and  at  this  very  counter  poured  West  India  and  New 
England  rum  into  thick  glass  tumblers,  stirring  in  the 
brown  sugar  with  a  toddy-stick,  for  the  delectation  of 
travellers.  There  was  no  liquor  of  an)*  sort  there  now, 


40  DRONES'  HONEY. 

it  is  needless  to  say,  —  only  pens,  ink,  and  a  day-book, 
in  which  Mr.  Kirke  was  asked  to  inscribe  his  name  below 
that  of  Miss  Anne  Belcher  of  Boston,  who  had  arrived 
on  the  noon  train.  This  day-book  was  a  modern 
affair,  and  Mr.  Simpson  had  a  pride  in  it,  as  well  as 
in  the  bright  key  with  label  attached,  which  he  now 
gave  his  guest,  summoning  the  factotum  Tom  to  show 
him  to  his  room;  though  he  "hoped  he  would  look 
round  all  he  pleased,  and  make  himself  perfectly  at 
home." 

The  antiquity  of  the  house  delighted  the  young 
man,  as  well  as  its  quaint  appointments.  The  piano 
in  the  parlor  claimed  to  have  originated  in  London  in 
1725,  and  was  composed  of  rosewood,  white  holly, 
and  ebony  ;  six  feet  long,  two  feet  wide,  with  mahogany 
legs  and  brass  casters.  Mr.  Kirke's  face  brightened ; 
he  was  becoming  deeply  interested.  At  the  tea-table 
it  was  a  new  experience  to  find  himself  placed  on  the 
footing  of  an  old  acquaintance ;  the  friendly  Mrs. 
Simpson  "making  conversation"  with  himself  and 
Miss  Belcher,  while  she  poured  the  tea.  Her  husband 
was  more  than  willing  to  aid  her  in  her  social  duties ; 
but,  unfortunately,  when  he  talked  he  forgot  every 
thing  else :  hence,  it  was  her  policy  to  keep  him  quiet. 
Mr.  Crabtree  once  said,  "  Simpson  is  like  that  little 
boat  of  Andrew  Cromwell's,  — -  a  terrible  small  boat 
with  an  awful  big  whistle ;  and,  when  he  blowed  the 
whistle,  the  boat  always  stopped." 

"I'm  so  glad  you  like  the  looks  of  our  town,  Mr. 
Kirke,"  said  the  friendly  landlady,  with  a  nod  of  her 
pepper-and-salt  curls. 

"You'll  have  to  see  Violet  Hill,  Miss  Belcher.     I 


DROiVES'  HONEY.  41 

guess  I'll  drive  you  up,"  remarked  the  equally  friendly 
landlord,  forgetting  to  pass  the  butter. 

"Won't  you  help  to  the  pease,  Mr.  Simpson?" 
said  his  wife  reprovingly.  "  '  Blessed  abundance'  is 
the  name  of  these  pease,  Miss  Belcher ;  and  we  think 
they're  pretty  early." 

Presently  the  door  opened,  and  a  man  sauntered 
into  the  dining-room  with  no  other  ceremony  than  a 
prolonged  whistle.  "  Been  hunting  all  over  the  house 
for  a  match  to  light  my  pipe.  Where  do  you  keep  'em, 
anyhow?" 

"  Why,  Andrew,  we  keep  them  on  the  kitchen  man 
tel-piece,  in  an  iron  box,"  replied  the  neighborly  old 
lady,  surprised  at  the  weakness  of  the  question. 

But  Andrew  was  too  dilatory  to  go  at  once,  even 
for  the  pleasure  of  a  smoke.  "  Look  here,  Simpson," 
lounging  up  to  the  table,  and  laying  a  small  article 
beside  the  host's  plate,  "  that's  the  kind  of  blind- 
fastener  you  want,  ain't  it?" 

"Looks  like  it,"  replied  Mr.  Simpson,  slowly  con 
sidering  the  subject  between  his  sips  of  tea. 

"  There,  I  said  so.  I  knew  you'd  like  it.  It's  the 
women-folks  that  make  the  bother,  and  keep  you  trot 
ting.  Now,  I've  been  to  Latium  twice  for  a  blind- 
fastener;  and  Evelyn  Searle  ain't  suited  yet." 

Mr.  Kirke  grew  suddenly  attentive. 

"  Guess  they're  'most  too  particular  up  there  on  the 
hill,"  remarked  the  landlord. 

"Oh,  no!"  said  his  wife.  "Andrew  has  been 
plaguing  their  lives  out  of  them.  You  know3'ou  have, 
Andrew.  Now,  if  you're  going  after  matches,  look 
out  not  to  hit  my  yeast-pitcher  on  the  mantel-shelf. 


42  DRONES'  HONEY. 

And  mind,  Andrew,  you  promised  to  come  next  week 
to  mend  the  sink  by  the  water-barrel.  —  Clever  boy," 
she  added  benignly,  as  the  door  closed  after  him ; 
"  but  if  he  gets  that  sink  mended  by  next  November, 
it's  all  I  expect.  And  Mr.  Simpson's  so  easy !  I 
don't  see  as  I'm  a  grain  better  off  than  the  young 
ladies  on  the  hill." 

"  Three  girls  up  there  all  alone,  and  not  a  man 
among  'em,"  murmured  Mr.  Simpson  in  a  tone  of 
heartfelt  pity. 

"Oh,  well,  Evelyn  and  Theodate  are  happier  than 
the  majority  of  married  couples !  Anybody  would 
enjoy  living  with  Evelyn,  she  has  such  a  soothing  way 
with  her.  (Won't  you  pass  the  biscuit,  Mr.  Simpson?) 
I  tell  'etn  they're  too  care-free  and  happy  for  this 
world,  up  there  in  the  clouds, — one  of  'em  a-paint- 
ing,  the  other  a-scribbling,  and  a  nice  little  French 
girl  to  do  the  rough  work." 

"Is  the  name  Searle,  do  you  say?"  asked  Mr. 
Kirke,  with  the  air  of  a  stranger  who  feigns  a  polite 
interest. 

"Well,  yes,  the  name  of  one  is  Searle;  but  we've 
got  in  the  way  of  calling  'em  '  the  young  ladies.' 
Evelyn  is  the  last  one  left  on  the  old  Searle  place  ;  and 
she  sent  for  an  old  crony  of  hers,  a  Wilder  girl  from 
Bangor  way,  to  come  and  live  with  her,"  replied  Mr. 
Simpson.  And  then  "  the  boat  stopped  "  again  ;  and 
his  wife,  alarmed  at  his  growing  interest  in  the  con 
versation,  struck  in  hurriedly,  — 

"  Will  you  pass  the  butter,  my  dear?  —  Yes,  and  a 
great  thing  it  was  for  Theodate.  Her  folks  were 
never  very  well-to-do,  and  her  father  took  to  drink, 


DRONES'  HONEY.  43 

and  she  had  to  support  the  family  ;  but  now  they've  all 
died  off,  and  Theodate  is  ever  so  pleased  to  have  a 
home  with  Evelj'n,  and  a  chance  to  set  up  a  class  in 
painting." 

"  So  she  is  an  artist?  " 

"Well,  I  don't  know  just  what  you'd  call  it.  "We 
think  she  paints  handsome  pictures.  You  can  almost 
smell  her  roses.  And  her  landscapes,  too,  we  think 
they're  as  good  as  anybody's.  — The  cake,  Mr.  Simp 
son." 

"And  Miss  Searle  writes  —  poetry,  perhaps?  " 

"  Oh,  no  !  Story  books  and  pieces  for  the  magazines. 
I  don't  believe  but  she  could  write  poetry,  though. 
I've  a  great  mind  to  ask  her  if  she  won't  make  up 
some  verses  for  our  golden  wedding,  Moses,  November 
next,  the  27th ;  and  we  expect  all  our  eight  children 
to  be  here,"  said  she,  pausing,  and  looking  at  her 
guests,  in  anticipation  of  hearing  them  exclaim,  "A 
golden  wedding  ?  You  surprise  me.  You  don't  look 
over  sixty." 

But  Miss  Belcher  was  too  rigidly  truthful  for  that ; 
and  Mr.  Kirke,  not  knowing  what  was  expected  of  him, 
only  said,  — 

"Ah!  and  have  you  lived  in  this  house  ever  since 
your  marriage,  Mrs.  Simpson?" 

"  Why,  to  be  sure ;  and  what's  more  we  were  mar 
ried  here,  right  by  that  east  window ;  and  old  Mr. 
Searle  the  minister,  Evelyn's  grandfather,  performed 
the  ceremony." 

"And  the  daughter  is  the  last  of  her  race,  I  think 
you  said?  " 

"  Yes,  all  but  her  uncle,  Mellen  Searle,  and   his 


44  DRONES'  HONEY. 

family.  They  live  here  in  this  town,"  replied  the  pleas 
ant  old  lady,  her  heart  going  out  more  and  more  toward 
this  "  sociable  young  man  "  who  took  such  an  interest 
in  village  affairs. 

"Why,"  said  she  after  tea,  to  Moses,  "he  seems 
just  like  one  of  '  our  folks,'  and  I  hope  he'll  like  to 
stay  with  us.  Anyway,  we'll  do  our  best  to  make  him 
have  a  good  time." 

Accordingly  he  was  regaled  that  evening  in  the  par 
lor  with  more  conversation,  and  with  the  music  of  the 
past,  which  Miss  Belcher  evoked  from  the  poor  old 
cracked  piano ;  and  Mr.  Simpson  tried  hard  to  keep 
awake  and  be  agreeable,  though  he  did  fall  asleep  at 
last  in  his  chair. 

There  was  a  degree  of  solemn  excitement  in  the 
village  next  day,  over  the  "old  doctor's"  funeral; 
though  what  name  the  old  doctor  had  borne  in  life  Mr. 
Kirke  never  heard.  He  busied  himself  most  of  the 
day  in  fishing ;  and  Mrs.  Simpson  fried  his  trout  for 
supper,  but  was  obliged  to  leave  him  in  the  evening  to 
the  care  of  her  somnolent  husband,  who  would  be  but 
poor  company,  she  feared.  She  remarked  apologeti 
cally,  as  she  drew  on  her  gloves,  that  she  wouldn't  go 
a  step,  only  it  was  a  special  church-meeting,  and  she 
felt  it  a  duty. 

"A  Baptist  dance,"  explained  the  irreverent  Mr. 
Simpson  to  their  guest,  fond  of  shocking  his  devout 
wife,  who  hushed  him  with  a  "  Why,  Moses  !  " 

"  But  I've  got  out  a  lot  of  books  here,"  pointing  to 
the  table,  "  and  you  can  read  all  you're  a  mind  to." 

Mr.  Kirke  thanked  her.  The}r  were  lives  of  presi 
dents  and  other  grandees,  adorned  with  woodcuts  of 


DRONES'  HONEY.  45 

the  log  cabins  in  which  they  were  born.  "Showing," 
the  old  lady  said  instructively,  "  how  most  of  our 
great  men  have  come  up  from  ign'ance." 

"  Yes,"  he  returned  with  a  smile  ;  "  but  I  object  to 
that  moral,  which  is,  '  Don't  educate  the  masses,  and 
you'll  get  presidents  out  of  the  slums.' ' 

The  good  lady  looked  rather  scandalized.  Had  she 
been  deceived  in  this  fair-seeming  young  man?  Could 
he  be,  after  all,  one  of  the  dreadful  free-thinking  sort? 

"  Perhaps  you  have  different  ideas  out  in  Chicago 
from  what  we  have  up  here  in  Maine;  perhaps,"  with 
a  tinge  of  severity,  "  you  think  labor  is  degrading,  and 
look  down  upon  ladies  that  do  their  own  work.  But 
we  haven't  any  aristocracy  here.  We  consider  that 
the  Lord  never  intended  us  to  shirk ;  and,  rich  or  poor, 
we  do  our  part.  To  be  sure,"  relenting  a  little,  "  we 
do  have  some  drones  in  the  hive ;  but  public  opinion  is 
against  'em  up  here,  and  they  know  it." 

Mr.  Kirke  blushed.  There  were  reasons  dating 
from  childhood  why  he  could  never  hear  the  word 
"drone"  without  suspecting  a  personal  application. 
Good  Mrs.  Simpson  noted  the  blush,  and  her  tender 
heart  misgave  her.  "  Good-by,  a  very  pleasant  time  to 
you,"  said  she,  casting  back  a  motherly  smile  through 
the  crack  of  the  door. 

But  he  was  not  destined  to  a  quiet  evening  with  the 
sleeping  landlord  and  the  dead  presidents.  Mr.  Crab- 
tree  soon  entered,  followed  by  a  handsome  St.  Bernard 
dog  with  a  dead  chicken  fastened  about  his  neck, 
and  close  behind  tne  dog  a  sandy-haired  gentleman 
whom  Mr.  Crabtree  announced  as  "  Mr.  Searle,  well 
acquainted  with  your  father,  Judge  Kirke." 


4.6  DRONES'  HONEY. 

It  was  a  proud  moment  for  Mr.  Crabtree.  He  had 
been  searching  all  clay  for  Mr.  Kirke,  to  let  him  know 
that  Narransauc  was  not  so  far  out  of  the  world,  after 
all ;  that,  in  fact,  it  had  its  great  men,  second  to  none 
in  Chicago  or  elsewhere.  He  made  the  introduction 
with  a  loud  laugh.  He  had  a  laugh  ready  to  express 
all  shades  of  feeling ;  it  meant  now  that  he  hoped  Mr. 
Kirke  would  be  satisfied  as  to  the  town's  gentility,  of 
which  he.  Mr.  Crabtree,  had  not  been  a  fair  sample. 
He  had  "  no  manners  to  brag  of,"  and  he  knew  it ;  he 
was  a  "  singed  cat,"  giving  no  outward  sign  of  his  in 
terior  worth.  But  look  now,  here  was  a  real  gentleman, 
the  best  lawyer  in  the  county,  as  well  as  an  ex-con 
gressman  ;  and  if  these  facts  did  not  come  out  in  the 
course  of  conversation,  then  he,  Mr.  Crabtree,  would 
know  the  reason  why. 

"  Yes,  I  was  well  acquainted  with  your  father,  and 
am  most  happy  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Kirke,"  said  Mr. 
Searle  with  a  cordial  hand-grasp,  which  the  young  man 
returned  in  kind,  looking  up  at,  or  more  strictly  down 
upon,  the  older  gentleman  with  a  deference  which  grati 
fied  Mr.  Crabtree,  as  reflecting  honor  indirectly  upon 
himself.  "  Yes,  I  knew  your  father  when  we  were 
both  young.  He  was  a  native  of  Andover,  you  know ; 
and  I  went  there  to  school,  and  we  were  in  the  same 
classes.  And  years  afterwards  we  travelled  together. 
We  were  excellent  friends,"  said  the  lawyer,  who  had 
not  }ret  released  Mr.  Kirke's  hand. 

A  sudden  recollection  flashed  into  the  young  man's 
mind,  — 

"  You  are  not  the  gentleman  who  went  to  South 
America  with  my  father?" 


DRONES'  HONEY.  47 

"  The  very  same." 

"Then  I  have  often  heard  of  you,  sir.  My  father 
is  very  fond  of  referring  to  his  South-American 
voyage,  and  to  Mr.  Melleu  Searle.  Is  that  the 
name?  " 

"  Is  he?  I  am  glad  to  hear  it,"  returned  Mr. 
Searle  with  a  glow  of  pleasure  in  his  eyes,  which  im 
mediately  recalled  to  the  young  man  the  smile  of  the 
niece,  Miss  Evelyn  Searle,  as  she  saw  her  friend's 
figure  in  the  distance  from  the  car-window.  It  might 
be  an  accidental  resemblance,  but  that  smile  was  surely 
one  of  a  thousand. 

Here  followed  a  series  of  anecdotes  concerning  the 
memorable  voyage,  not  of  absorbing  interest  to  Mr. 
Crabtree,  who  broke  into  the  conversation  before  long 
to  address  his  dog,  — 

"Well,  Bruno,  you  needn't  look  so  meaching:  I 
don't  believe  the  folks  have  taken  any  notice  of  your 
necklace;  and,  if  you'll  promise  not  to  rob  any  more 
hen-roosts,  I'll  take  it  off  when  we  get  home.  — Well, 
Square,  hadn't  we  better  be  going?  " 

Mr.  Searle  rose  with  some  deliberation.  "  We  shall 
expect  an  early  call  from  you,  Mr.  Kirke.  Mrs. 
Searle  will  be  glad  to  know  you,  and  I  hope  to  have 
the  honor  of  showing  you  some  hospitality." 

"H'm!  If  his  wife  will  let  him,"  thought  Mr. 
Crabtree.  "Bruno;  here,  Bruno,"  —  to  the  dog  who 
had  retreated  under  the  table. 

"To-morrow  will  be  Sunday,"  he  added  in  a  tone 
of  sanctity,  after  a  solemn  clearing  of  the  throat,  as  if 
by  that  act  he  drew  a  strict  line  between  secular  and 
religious  conversation ;  "  and  we'd  be  glad  to  have 


48  DRONES'  HONEY. 

you  come  to  our  meet/in',  Congregational,  and  sit  in 
our  pew.  And,  if  you're  going  to  be  any  time  among 
us,  we  should  be  pleased  to  have  your  help  in  the 
prayer-meeting  and  Sabbath  school." 

This  last  with  the  rising  inflection,  as  was  natural  in 
addressing  a  stranger  whose  religious  proclivities  were 
unknown. 

Mr.  Kirke  bit  his  lip.  He  had  never  heard  "  the 
holy  whine  "  from  this  source  before,  and  it  struck 
him  as  much  funnier  than  any  of  Mr.  Crabtree's  inten 
tional  jokes.  He  said  he  should  attend  church,  and 
would  be  glad  to  accept  the  hospitality  of  Mr.  Crab- 
tree's  pew. 

And  upon  this  the  guests  took  their  leave. 


DRONES'  HONEY.  49 


V. 


"  Life  with  you 

Glows  in  the  brain,  and  dances  in  the  arteries ; 
'TVs  like  the  wine  some  joyous  guest  hath  quaffed, 
That  glads  the  lieart,  and  elevates  the  fancy.'1 

OLD  PLAY:  ANTIQUARY. 

MR.  SEARLE  supposed  he  was  doing  Judge 
Kirkc's  son  a  favor  in  escorting  him  on  Tuesday 
evening  to  Violet  Hill,  the  old  homestead  where  the 
"  young  ladies  "  lived.  The  37oung  man  had  expressed 
a  wish  to  go ;  but  now,  that  they  were  on  their  way  up 
the  gradually  ascending  street,  he  found  himself  dread 
ing  the  call.  Miss  Searle  had  been  an  unsocial  travel 
ling-companion,  reading  Thomas  a  Kempis  in  the  cars. 
IShe  probably  had  a  dreamy  mind,  shut  into  itself  iu  a 
sort  of  spiritual  balloon,  so  to  speak ;  and  it  was  only 
people  of  a  rarefied  nature  who  could  soar  high  enough 
to  converse  with  her. 

Of  the  two  young  ladies,  he  had  less  fear  of  Miss 
Wilder,  because  he  had  never  seen  her. 

As  they  turned  into  the  curved  path  leading  to  the 
house,  they  met  a  small  boy  trudging  toward  them, 
half  concealed  under  a  swaying  forest  of  rhubarb 
stalks  and  leaves. 

4 'They  give  'em  to  me,"  cried  the  walking  forest 
with  an  injured  air,  on  being  questioned  as  to  his 


50  DRONES'  HONEY. 

spoils.  "  Evelyn  said  our  folks  could  have  all  the 
rubub  I's  a  mind  to  pick." 

"All  right,"  laughed  Mr.  Searle. 

But,  as  both  gentlemen  had  now  turned  short  around, 
the  boy  looked  back  indignantly,  his  moon-shaped  face 
showing  in  the  umbrageous  mass  like  a  nondescript 
flower  bursting  into  bloom.  He  thought  they  still 
doubted  his  claim  to  the  "  rubub,"  whereas  Mr.  Searle 
was  only  calling  attention  to  the  landscape. 

They  were  on  the  summit  of  Violet  Hill,  command 
ing  a  broad  view  of  four  neighboring  towns,  the  wind 
ing  river,  and  three  ponds,  with  an  eastern  horizon  of 
snow-capped  mountains. 

The  hill  had  been  so  named  on  account  of  its  violet 
tinge ;  but,  indeed,  as  they  looked  down,  the  whole 
world  seemed  to  have  borrowed  the  color.  The  light 
from  the  mountains  was  sifting  through  evening  clouds 
of  varying  tint,  but  every  cloud  cast  always  a  violet 
shadow.  In  the  west  the  sun  was  sinking  in  golden 
light,  and  the  east  mourned  him  in  fantastic  purple 
and  pink ;  but  still,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  the 
soft  and  lovely  violet  eveiywhere  prevailed. 

"Is  it  like  what  you  thought?"  asked  Mr.  Searle, 
after  a  pause,  as  they  both  stood  gazing  with  heads 
involuntarily  bared. 

"  I  don't  know  what  I  thought ;  but  there's  nothing 
to  be  said,"  replied  the  young  man,  drawing  a  long 
breath.  "  It's  a  revelation  of  itself." 

"  When  I  was  a  boy,  I  used  to  stand  in  the  garden 
back  of  the  house,  and  look  down  by  the  hour  at  that 
scene,"  said  Mr.  Searle  in  hushed  tones.  "And  I 
never  look  at  it  now  without  thinking  of  what  Fichte 


DRONES'  HONEY.  51 

says :  '  The  world  is  but  the  curtain  by  which  an  in 
finitely  more  perfect  world  is  concealed  from  me.' 
I  believe  I  should  have  been  nearer  heaven  now,  if  I 
had  never  left  this  place,"  he  added  half  sadly.  "  It 
belonged  to  me  as  the  eldest  son,  but  I  gave  it  up 
to  my  brother  John ;  and,  when  John  died,  the  farm 
ran  behind,  and  there's  nothing  raised  on  it  now  but 
grass  and  garden  vegetables.  I'll  take  you  over  the 
orchard  some  time,  and  the  wood-lot ;  but  we'll  go 
into  the  house  now,  and  make  our  call.  —  Are  the  }~oung 
ladies  in?"  he  asked  of  the  nutbrown  maid  who 
answered  the  bell. 

"  Yes,  sir;  they's  out  in  the  orchard  playing  tag," 
she  replied,  wiping  a  smile  from  the  corner  of  her 
mouth  with  her  apron.  "  Walk  in,  sir.  I'll  call  'em 
d'rec'ly." 

Rosa's  frankness  regarding  family  affairs  was  a  daily 
trial  to  her  young  ladies. 

"Tag?  You  probabl}' mean  calisthenics,"  said  the 
rather  fastidious  Mr.  Searle,  as  they  were  ushered  into 
the  parlor. 

But  Rosa  was  incorrigible.  "  No,  sir,  they's  a-chas- 
ing  one  another  lickety-split,"  emphasizing  the  dreadful 
remark  by  bringing  her  hand  down  upon  a  piano-key 
to  kill  a  fly,  which  perished  melodiously  like  a  dying 
swan . 

"  You  will  find  the  young  ladies  are  not  very  con 
ventional,"  said  Mr.  Searle  apologetically,  as  Rosa 
went  to  summon  them.  "  They  are  great  brain- 
workers  ;  and  some  romping  is  necessary,  perhaps,  to 
keep  up  their  health.  1  think  Miss  Wilder  is  rather 
the  ringleader.  My  son  Ozro  says  she  took  lessons 


52  DRONES'  HONEY. 

last  summer  in  pistol-shooting  of  a  young  man  who 
was  visiting  in  town,  but  I  regard  this  as  an  exaggera 
tion.  By  the  way,  the  young  man  was  from  Chicago, 
and  knew  your  famity  well." 

"Ah!     What  name?" 

"  I  was  about  to  tell  you  ;  had  it  a  moment  ago,  but 
now  it's  gone.  Strange  how  names  fly  from  us." 

"  Very,"  assented  Mr.  Kirke,  watching  Mr.  Searle's 
knitted  brows  with  considerable  interest.  A  young 
man  from  Chicago?  Could  it  possibly  have  been  the 
hero  of  the  letter? 

"  Was  the  name  long,  or  short?  "  he  asked,  wonder 
ing  if  it  began  with  a  "  K,"  and  was  capable  of  being 
twisted  into  Kirke. 

"  'Twill  come  back  presently,"  said  Mr.  Searle, 
spreading  out  his  palm  as  if  to  grasp  it  in  the  air. 
"  I'll  have  it  soon.  Yes,  he  knew  your  family  well ; 
and  I  was  going  to  ask  you  about  him  last  night,  but 
forgot  it." 

Mr.  Kirke  chafed  inwardly  at  these  lapses  of  mem- 
oi*3' ;  but  his  thoughts  were  diverted  now  by  the  entrance 
of  a  vision  in  white,  floating  in  the  wake  of  a  falling 
sunbeam.  It  was  Miss  Searle,  and  the  sunbeam  trans 
formed  her  "ling  long"  yellow  hair  into  a  sort  of 
aureola  about  her  head.  Could  this  be  the  young  lady 
who  had  just  been  playing  "tag"  in  the  orchard? 
Had  she  romped  in  that  fleecy  gown  with  its  delicate 
lace  trimmings?  or  had  she  made  a. new  toilet  with 
the  magic  speed  of  a  Cinderella?  Her  uncle's  knitted 
brows  cleared  as  he  arose  to  greet  her  and  present  her 
with  formal  pride  to  "  the  son  of  my  old  friend  Judge 
Kirke."  She  extended  her  hand  with  a  playful  smile. 


DRONES'  HONEY.  53 

"  I  am  happy  to  meet  you  again,  Mr.  Kirke,  and 
without  that  dreadful  baby." 

He  had  risen  rather  stiffly,  expecting  an  icy  greeting  ; 
hut  it  seemed  that  Miss  Searle  made  a  distinction  be 
tween  chance  acquaintances  and  people  who  came  with 
proper  credentials.  This  was  her  court,  here  she  was 
queen  ;  and  it  pleased  her  to  be  sweetly  gracious  and 
charming. 

"Thank  you.  I  am  very  happy  to  be  permitted  to 
call  and  inquire  if  you  have  recovered  from  the  fatigue- 
of  the  journey.  Was  that  a  human  baby,  Miss 
Searle?" 

Upon  this  they  both  laughed  ;  and  she  said,  turning 
to  Mr.  Searle, — 

"You  wouldn't  wonder  at  the  question,  uncle  Mel- 
len,  if  you  had  seen  the  impish  cruelty  of  that  little 
creature,  and  its  fierce  way  of  pulling  his  hair.  —  I  owe 
you  a  debt  of  gratitude,  Mr.  Kirke,  for  thrusting  your 
head  into  the  breach." 

She  paused  as  a  dark  figure  entered  the  doorway  like 
the  shadow  of  night ;  and  the  young  man  said  to  him 
self,  ' ' '  Who  is  this  that  cometh  from  the  house  of 
mourning,  clad  in  the  garments  of  woe?  '  " 

"  My  friend  Miss  Wilder,  Mr.  Kirke." 

Her  appearance  was  striking,  —  almost  severe. 
There  were  few  curves  of  beauty  in  her  erect,  square- 
shouldered  figure,  no  compromising  waves  in  her  mid 
night  hair ;  but  when  she  smiled,  as  now,  a  light  leaped 
out  of  her  dark  eyes  as  warm  and  friendly  as  a  house 
hold  fire. 

"  Miss  Wilder,  this  is  the  Good  Samaritan  who 
helped  me  the  other  day  with  little  Mamie.  You  ought 


54  DRONES'  HONEY. 

to  have  been  there  to  make  a  sketch  of  him  as  he  strode 
frantically  up  and  down  the  aisle,  brandishing  her  on 
his  shoulder." 

"  I  think  I  should  have  sketched  that  baby  with  a 
very  hard  pencil,"  said  Miss  Wilder,  shaking  hands 
warmly.  "•  Even  its  grandmother  is  half  beside  herself 
with  such  a  child." 

Rosa  now  appeared,  and  lighted  the  hanging-lamps, 
which  the  moonlight  put  to  shame  with  a  cold,  superior 
smile. 

* '  Rosa,  will  you  bring  a  pitcher  of  water  fresh  from 
the  pump?  "  asked  Mr.  Searle  blandly.  "  Mr.  Kirke, 
I  wish  to  regale  you  with  some  sparkling  water  from  an 
old  well  which  has  come  down  to  our  family  by  inherit 
ance,  like  the  wells  of  the  Israelites,"  he  added,  as  the 
nut-brown  maid  re-appeared  with  pitcher  and  glasses. 

The  water  was  very  refreshing  ;  and  the  young  man 
declared  he  would  like  to  drink  a  health  to  the  roan- 
tree  which  Mr.  Searle  said  grew  beside  it,  and  had  the 
power  of  keeping  off  witches. 

The  little  French  girl  listened  with  much  interest  to 
these  remarks.  She  had  never  felt  quite  sure  before 
that  there  are  such  beings  as  witches,  but  she  should 
believe  it  henceforth  on  what  she  considered  the  high 
est  authority.  She  wore  a  charm  about  her  neck,  the 
hind  foot  of  a  rabbit,  which  her  lover  Peter  had  shot 
in  the  graveyard  at  midnight ;  and  she  had  fancied 
once  or  twice  that  Miss  Date  was  disposed  to  make 
game  of  this  "graveyard  rabbit,"  for  she  did  make 
game  sometimes  without  smiling  at  all.  Miss  Evelyn 
never  did  such  a  thing :  she  was  so  very,  very  tender 
of  people's  feelings.  It  seemed  rather  too  bad,  but 


DRONES'  HONEY.  55 

Miss  Date  called  attention  now  to  this  charm ;  and 
Rosa  was  sure  the  large  young  gentleman  understood  at 
once  how  affairs  stood  between  herself  and  Peter.  She 
retreated  to  the  kitchen  in  great  confusion,  with  pitcher 
and  goblet ;  and  next  moment  there  was  heard  a  crash 
of  glass,  followed  by  a  diminutive  scream. 

"I  am  afraid,  Theodate,  what  you  said  was  rather 
embarrassing  to  the  child,"  remarked  Mr.  Searle. 
"  She  seems  to  be  as  sensitive  as  Peter  himself." 

And  then,  for  the  amusement  of  the  company,  he  told 
an  anecdote  of  this  French  youth,  his  work-boy. 

"  When  he  filled  our  wood-box  this  morning,  he 
wanted  to  put  on  his  leather  apron  ;  but  his  hat  was  on 
his  head,  and  how  to  get  the  apron  over  the  hat  he 
could  not  think.  But  he  finall}'  solved  the  problem  by 
taking  off  the  hat  and  slipping  it  through  the  apron." 

Poor  love-distraught  Peter !  It  was  very  easy  to 
laugh  at  his  aberration  of  mind ;  it  served  to  give  a 
light  and  pleasant  turn  to  the  conversation.  And,  when 
Mr.  Searle  saw  that  the  young  people  were  chatting 
together  in  the  highest  good-humor,  he  soon  excused 
himself  and  took  his  leave ;  turning  at  the  door  to  say 
in  a  softened  tone  to  his  niece,  "•  Your  aunt  wants  to 
see  }'ou,  Evetyn.  Come  down  to-morrow  if  you  can." 

This  lowering  of  the  voice  had  been  noticeable 
whenever  he  addressed  her.  Was  it  an  involuntan' 
tribute  to  her  gentle-heartedness  ? 

She  had  a  sunny  face.  There  was  a  slight  uplifting 
of  the  nose,  as  if  it  breathed  the  upper  ether ;  a 
glad  look  in  the  eyes,  as  if  the}*  saw  the  silver  lining 
of  the  clouds ;  a  pleasant  look  about  the  month,  as  if 
it  shut  in  a  whole  treasury  of  smiles.  You  felt  that 


56  DRONES'  HONEY. 

she  would  look  for  the  poetry  of  life,  and  find  it.  She 
would  not  sink  into  the  pitfalls,  for  she  bore  wings  on 
her  feet.  And  how  much  sunshine  these  happy  women 
garner  up,  and  kindly  shed  abroad  on  rainy  days  ! 

These  were  Mr.  Kirke's  reflections,  not  mine.  He 
understood  now,  for  her  uncle  had  told  him  so,  that 
Miss  Searle  had  a  very  buoyant  temperament,  but  the 
loss  of  her  mother  had  changed  her  sadly  during  the 
past  year.  How  she  could  rely  on  Miss  Wilder  to  keep 
up  her  spirits,  as  Mr.  Searle  said  she  did,  was  a  mystery 
to  Mr.  Kirke :  Miss  Wilder  seemed  to  him  at  first  sight 
so  very  serious.  What  possessed  a  woman  of  her  age 
to  dress  like  a  nun?  Had  she  lost  all  her  friends? 
She  served  as  a  foil  to  Miss  Searle's  fair  beauty.  Was 
there  design  of  that  sort  in  her  sombre  dress,  with  only 
the  slight  relief  of  a  linen  collar  and  a  pansy  at  the 
throat?  Even  the  pansy  might  be  said  to  be  in  second 
mourning,  for  it  had  a  heart  of  royal  purple.  Could 
she  not  bend  to  fashion  enough  to  curl  or  toss  or  crimp 
her  puritanical  straight  hair? 

So  much  for  masculine  criticism.  Miss  Wilder  had 
tried  the  effect  of  crimps  and  curls,  and  considered 
them  as  much  out  of  place  on  her  Roman  forehead  as 
a  Punch  and  Judy  in  a  pulpit.  She  had  lost  all  her 
friends  except  Miss  Searle.  Moreover,  black  was 
economical,  and  she  believed  it  becoming.  She  was 
as  scrupulously  neat  in  her  attire  as  her  friend ;  but 
Evelyn's  little  graceful  touches  of  the  toilet,  she  ab 
jured.  What  had  a  plain  woman  to  do  with  adorn 
ments?  Evelyn  believed  she  had  possibilities  of 
beauty,  and  wished  she  felt  half  the  interest  in  bringing 
out  her  own  best  points  that  she  had  in  painting  from 


DRONES'  HONEY.  57 

nature.  But  Theodate  had  settled  the  matter  long  ago, 
and  it  was  not  to  be  denied  that  her  rigid  simplicity 
of  dress  did  give  her  extra  time  for  work. 

"Miss  Searle,"  said  Mr.  Kirke,  "  we  met  a  very 
discouraged  little  boy  going  out  of  your  garden,  over 
powered  with  rhubarb  stalks.  He  looked  like  Birnam 
Wood  coming  to  Dunsinane." 

"  Jimmy  Skilliugs,  I  presume,  though  I  did  not 
know  he  had  been  here." 

"  He  will  carry  off  the  whole  garden,  Evelyn,  if  you 
are  so  easy  with  him,"  exclaimed  Miss  Wilder.  4t  The 
Skillingses  are  a  poor  family  in  the  village,"  she  ex 
plained  to  Mr.  Kirke,  "  always  begging  or  borrowing  ; 
vegetables,  clothes-lines,  —  even  stove-pipes  they  ask  for. 
I  never  knew  Jimmy  to  return  but  one  borrowed  article, 
and  that  was  an  egg ;  and  I  was  so  surprised  that  I 
said,  'Why,  Jimmy,  is  that  the  egg  I  lent  you  the 
other  day?  '  — '  No,'  said  he,  '  mother  used  that  egg  : 
this  is  another  one.'  ' 

Miss  Wilder  was  a  good  talker ;  and  Miss  Searle  led 
her  on  to  relate  several  stories,  evidently  amused  her 
self,  and  sure  that  Mr.  Kirke  would  be  amused,  by  her 
dryly  uttered  drolleries. 

Schoolmates  these  two  young  women  had  been  a  few 
years  ago  at  Wellesley,  —  merely  schoolmates  at  first, 
then  friends ;  and  now  they  were  more  than  friends, 
united  by  a  bond  which  they  held  almost  as  sacred  as 
marriage.  This  was  another  thing  Mr.  Searle  had  told 
Mr.  Kirke  ;  and  the  young  man  considered  it  romantic, 
and  wondered  what  would  be  the  end  of  it,  in  case 
either  of  the  twain  should  venture  to  think  of  matri 
mony. 


58  DRONES'  HONEY. 

"What  enviable  people  you  are,"  said,  he  "living 
quite  above  the  world,  in  the  loveliest  spot  this  side  of 
sundown,  —  unless  you  find  it  too  quiet?  " 

"  Quiet !  That  is  the  very  thing  Miss  Searle  is  look 
ing  for,  and  can  never  find.  She  sends  me  away  every 
morning,  imploring  me  to  stay  away  all  day,  just  to 
give  her  a  little  quiet ;  and  when  I  come  back  at  night, 
half  afraid  to  meet  her,  she  says,  '  Why,  what  brought 
you  home  so  soon  ?  ' 

Miss  Searle  smiled  up  at  Mr.  Kirke.  "  In  plain 
prose,  Miss  Wilder  has  classes  in  painting  which  take 
all  her  mornings,  and  she  often  sketches  in  the  after 
noon,  which  leaves  me  alone  more  than  I  would  choose. 
But  we  always  have  our  evenings  together,"  she  added 
with  a  look  which  said  that  that  was  bliss  enough  for 
this  world. 

"  Mr.  Kirke,  are  you  waiting  to  be  asked  the 
question,  how  do  you  like  Narrausauc?"  said  Miss 
Wilder. 

"Oh,  that  is  superfluous!  I'm  captivated.  How 
can  I  help  it?" 

"Thank  you,  thank  you.  I  like  that,"  said  Miss 
Wilder,  leaving  her  place  on  the  sofa  and  taking  a  chair 
somewhat  nearer  their  guest.  For  all  her  serious  looks 
and  slowness  of  speech,  she  was  humorous,  he  could 
see  that,  and  more  impulsive  than  the  lighter,  sunnier 
Miss  Searle. 

"  I  enjoy  the  views  immensely,  Miss  Wilder,  from 
various  points,  above  all  from  this  hill.  Will  you 
mind  my  bringing  up  my  camera  some  fine  morning? 
You  shall  not  be  disturbed  in  the  least." 

"Your  camera?  " 


DRONES'  HONEY.  59 

"  Yes.  Perhaps  Mr.  Searle  did  not  mention  to  you 
that  I  am  a  travelling  photographer." 

Miss  Wilder  looked  amazed. 

"No,  he  did  not."  She  hesitated  a  moment. 
"  Now,  perhaps  that  will  be  the  very  thing  for  me. 
If  you  could  take  some  of  the  views  I  like,  and  I 
could  send  them  to  my  friends  "  — 

"  Don't  3'ou  see  he's  laughing  at  us,  dear?"  inter 
posed  Miss  Searle  with  a  quiet  smile.  "I'm  afraid 
he's  only  a  Chicago  lawyer,  and  not  an  artist.  At 
any  rate,  I  have  his  card  that  says  so." 

Indeed !  Then  she  had  not  deliberately  lost  the 
card,  after  all. 

Miss  Wilder  laughed  heartily  at  her  mistake ;  she 
had  an  infectious  laugh. 

"  But  you  did  bring  a  camera?  "  she  asked.  "You 
won't  be  so  cruel  as  to  say  you  were  jesting  about 
that?" 

"  Yes,  I  did  bring  a  camera  for  my  own  amusement ; 
but  my  pictures  would  strike  despair  to  your  heart, 
Miss  Wilder:  you  never  saw  any  thing  so  bad." 

"  Oh,  perhaps,  now,  you  are  too  modest !  You'll  let 
us  see  some  and  judge  for  ourselves,  won't  you?  " 

After  this  the  conversation  naturally  drifted  to  art. 
Mr.  Kirke  had  a  taste  for  it,  and  had  gathered  consid 
erable  desultory  information  on  the  subject,  besides 
being  acquainted  with  several  well-known  artists  ;  and 
the  talk  grew  quite  animated,  Miss  Searle  joining  in  it 
chiefly  with  her  eyes.  She  was  such  an  electric  listener 
that  Mr.  Kirke  was  surprised  afterward  to  remember 
how  little  she  had  really  said. 

During  a  pause  she  brought  him  a  photograph-album  ; 


60  DRONES'  HONEY. 

but  he  was  so  interested  in  the  graceful  way  she  turned 
the  leaves,  and  the  vital  force  of  her  manner  in  giving 
bits  of  biography,  that  he  sometimes  forgot  to  look  at 
the  pictures,  for  looking  at  her. 

"There,  this  is  a  Chinaman;  perhaps  3'ou  wouldn't 
care  to  hear  his  history.  But  it  reminds  me  to  ask,  do 
the  Chinese  identify  criminals  by  taking  an  impression 
of  their  thumbs?" 

"  I  have  heard  so." 

"That  is  convenient  and  sensible,  just  like  the 
Chinese,"  remarked  Miss  Wilder.  "  There  never  were 
two  thumbs  alike,  of  course." 

"  Neither  are  hands  alike.  I  wish  I  had  a  book  full 
of  the  hands  of  my  intimate  friends,  all  done  to  the 
life,"  said  Miss  Searle.  "  They  are  just  as  individual 
as  faces,  and  just  as  full  of  character." 

She  was  turning  a  leaf  as  she  spoke  ;  and  Mr.  Kirke 
suddenly  exclaimed,  "  Joe  Fiske !  Why,  where  did 
you  ever  know  him?" 

"  Bryant  Fiske  is  a  friend  of  ours  from  Chicago," 
replied  Miss  Searle  briefly,  and  was  about  to  turn  an 
other  leaf ;  but  Mr.  Kirke  persisted,  — 

"Joseph  Bryant  Fiske  is  his  full  name,  one  of  our 
neighbors  at  home  ;  but  I  never  dreamed  of  his  knowing 
you." 

Miss  Wilder  came  forward  now  from  the  sofa,  and 
laid  on  the  table  a  geranium-leaf  which  she  had  been 
crushing  in  her  hand.  "  Mr.  Fiske  has  been  at  Cam 
bridge  University ;  and  Miss  Searle  and  I  have  known 
him  well,  for  we  spend  our  winters  in  Boston." 

"  Ah  !     I  wonder  I  never  heard  of  it." 

"And  Mr.  Fiske  was  here  last  summer  for  several 


DRONE'S  HONEY.  6 1 

weeks,"  added  Miss  Wilder,  "and  again  for  a  few 
days  in  May." 

"  You  surprise  me  more  and  more.  Spent  several 
weeks  at  Narransauc,  and  never  mentioned  it  to  me !  " 

At  this  moment,  Mr.  Kirke  chanced  to  meet  Miss 
Searle's  eyes,  which  dropped  timidly.  She  left  her  chair 
to  adjust  the  lamp,  which  required  no  attention  ;  and  it 
flashed  through  his  mind,  —  he  could  hardly  have  told 
why,  —  that  she  did  not  choose  to  talk  of  Mr.  Fiske, 
that  she  had  not  wished  his  name  brought  up.  And 
why  not?  What  was  amiss  in  Joe  Fiske?  He  could 
not  be  her  lover?  Then  another  blaze  of  intuition, — 
the  name  "  B.  I.  Kirke  "  on  that  letter:  could  it  pos 
sibly  have  been  meant  for  "  B.  J.  Fiske  "  ?  Strange  it 
had  not  occurred  to  him  long  ago.  Yet  not  so  strange 
either,  considering  that  he  had  never  before  seen  Joe's 
initials  reversed  in  that  order.  They  had  always  been 
"  J.  B.  F.,"  as  they  should  be.  This  freak  of  turning 
them  topsy-turvy,  and  calling  himself  Bryant,  was  new 
to  Mr.  Kirke.  And  there  was  the  "K:  "  could  that 
have  done  duty  as  an  "  F  "  ?  Improbable.  The  whole 
surmise  was  absurd,  especially  Joe's  love-affair.  Yet 
why  otherwise  had  Joe  been  so  sly  about  his  visit  to 
Narransauc?  So  moody  and  restless,  too,  all  the 
spring,  even  more  trying  to  the  patience  than  usual. 
It  was  a  subject  for  reflection. 

Mr.  Kirke  shortened  his  call,  already  long  for  village 
etiquette,  and  tore  himself  away  while  yet  it  seemed 
to  him  that  the  delightful  evening  was  only  begun. 

"  I  hope  you  will  remain  in  town  some  time,"  said 
Miss  Wilder  in  a  friendly  tone,  at  the  door ;  and  Miss 
Searle's  large  gray  eyes  held  a  wish  equally  kind. 


62  DRONES'  HONEY. 

"  Thank  you.  I  shall  probably  stay  several  weeks," 
was  the  prompt  reply,  though  nothing  had  been  farther 
from  his  plans  an  hour  ago.  A  few  days  would  amply 
suffice,  he  had  thought,  and  then  for  the  Adirondacks. 
But  that  was  before  he  had  seen  the  view  from  Violet 
Hill. 


DRONES1  HONEY.  63 


VI. 


"  All  her  excellences  stand  in  her  so  silently,  as  if  they  had  stolen 

upon  her  without  her  knowledge." 

SIB  THOMAS  OVEBBUBY. 

W  for  that  vagrant  letter,"  said  Mr.  Kirke, 
taking  it  out  as  soon  as  he  reached  his  room 
at  the  Druid,  and  reading  the  superscription  with  per 
fect  ease :  "  B.  J.  Fiske."  It  was  like  racking  one's 
brains  over  a  hard  line  in  Virgil,  and  then  suddenly 
spying  a  footnote  at  the  bottom  of  the  page,  which  lets 
in  a  light  as  clear  as  noon-day.  He  stamped  his  foot 
with  impatience. 

"I  might  have  made  it  out  by  my  own  unassisted 
imagination  if  I  had  ever  heard  of  his  being  at  Nar- 
ransauc,  the  insufferable  idiot !  And  he  aspired  to 
that  girl !  A  boy  just  out  of  college ;  no  father,  a 
mother  and  sister  to  support ;  and  falling  in  love  out 
of  hand  !  I  never  thought  he  was  quite  level-headed, 
but  this  is  too  much.  Well,  he  is  Art's  brother,  and 
I  mustn't  be  hard  on  the  child,"  with  a  smile  at  his 
juvenile  absurdity. 

"  I  can  understand  now  the  surprise  in  her  letter. 
She  had  been  kind  to  him,  as  she  was  to  me  this  even 
ing,  or  as  she  was  to  that  little  wight  with  the  rhubarb  ; 
and  he  took  it  for  '  encouragement.'  It  will  always  be 
a  mystery  to  her,  I  suppose,  how  it  should  have  hap- 


64  DRONES'  HONEY. 

pened ;  for  she  certainly  has  no  more  artifice  than  a 
white  kitten.  Now,  there's  the  wonder  of  it,  after  all," 
reflected  Mr.  Kirke,  who  was  nothing  if  not  metaphysi 
cal.  "Artifice  would  explain  it;  but  she  is  an  amber 
and  white  woman,  innocent  of  all  design,  and  not  in  the 
least  fascinating.  If  either  of  them  could  cast  a  glam 
our,  I'd  sooner  suspect  Miss  Wilder  with  those  midnight 
eyes  of  hers  ;  and  I  fancy  I'm  entitled  to  an  opinion, 
being  a  moderately  susceptible  young  man,  of  some 
experience  in  affairs  of  the  heart.  I  should  have  the 
siucerest  respect  and  admiration  for  Miss  Searle,  —  by 
the  way,  she  doesn't  look  a  day  over  twenty,  —  she's  as 
graceful  as  wild  oats,  and  you  like  to  watch  her  waj's, 
like  those  of  a  child :  but  she's  too  transparent  to  be 
dangerous  ;  it  needs  a  spice  of  wickedness  to  bewitch  a 
man,  and  that's  always  lacking  in  your  ethereal  women. 
My  dear  Miss  Searle,  I  kneel  to  your  transcendent 
loveliness,  but  my  heart  is  safe  against  your  charms. 

"  Well,  well,"  with  a  look  of  scorn  tempered  b}-  pity, 
"Joe's  mind  is  in  a  wild  state;  and  I'm  sorry  for 
the  poor  girl  if  he  means  to  pursue  the  subject,  as 
he  certainly  will  unless  he  hears  from  her.  Can  he 
have  waited  all  this  while  for  her  answer?  Highly 
improbable.  Still  he  ought  to  have  the  letter.  I 
believe  I'll  remail  it  forthwith." 

He  found  a  fresh  envelope,  and  dipped  his  pen  in  the 
ink.  "  Stay,  he'll  recognize  my  writing.  He'll  see 
I'm  in  Narransauc,  and  will  suspect  I'm  intruding  upon 
his  affairs.  No,  I'll  destroy  the  letter,  and  then  it  will 
tell  no  tales." 

He  was  about  to  tear  it  across,  when  the  thought 
occurred  to  him,  "  Suppose  the  boy  should  tire  of  wait- 


DRONES'  HONEY.  65 

ing,  and  in  a  frenzy  of  desperation  come  on  here  to 
demand  his  sentence  from  Miss  Searle's  own  lips?" 

The  bare  possibility  was  startling ;  it  decided  him 
at  once.  "  No;  in  justice  to  the  young  lady,  I  must 
send  the  letter.  Can  I  disguise  my  hand?  —  Here's 
a  feminine  stroke  that  I  flatter  myself  is  well  done," 
he  added  triumphantly,  after  several  trials.  "  It's  pos 
itively  a  little  like  Miss  Searle's  ;  at  any  rate,  more  like 
hers  than  like  my  own.  He'll  study  over  it,  and  won 
der  where  the  letter  has  waited  so  long,  but  will  never 
suspect  me  of  having  tampered  with  it.  Why  should 
he,  when  it  is  certainly  not  my  writing?  Moreover,  he 
does  not  know  I'm  in  Narransauc,  and  I  must  take 
care  that  he  does  not  find  it  out." 

He  would  see  that  the  letter  was  mailed  early  in  the 
morning  when  he  went  to  escort  Miss  Belcher  of 
Boston  to  the  train.  She  was  a  highly  respectable, 
withered  little  person,  who  had  made  about  as  much 
impression  upon  him  as  a  faded  autumn  leaf.  But 
there  was  enough  chivahy  in  Benjamin  Kirke,  indo 
lent  as  he  was,  to  insure  his  rising  betimes  to-morrow 
morning  to  bid  her  a  courteous  good-by. 

"  Do  you  remain  much  longer,  Mr.  Kirke?"  asked 
the  lady,  as  he  made  his  parting  bow  at  the  car- 
window. 

"  As  long  as  the  charm  holds,"  he  replied.  "  The 
town  is  very  green  and  beautiful." 

"  So  are  some  cemeteries,"  she  answered  with  a 
final  wave  of  the  hand,  and  a  satirical  smile. 

Well,  it  might  be  a  trifle  dull ;  but  it  was  a  sweet, 
refined  dulness,  and  thus  far  he  was  quite  content. 
He  was  glad  the  letter  was  gone,  and  wished  he  might 


66  DRONES'  HONEY. 

tell  Miss  Searle  the  history  of  it.  It  would  surely 
amaze  her  to  learn  that  this  product  of  her  brain  had 
had  such  a  wide  circulation,  travelling  farther,  perhaps, 
than  some  of  her  stories.  He  thought  he  should  like 
to  read  her  stories :  they  must  be  pure  and  wholesome. 
If  she  had  a  pen-name,  what  was  it,  he  wondered, 
and  had  she  more  than  a  local  reputation  ?  He  would 
like  to  see  Miss  Wilder's  paintings.  She  looked  the 
sort  of  person  to  do  a  thing  well:  she  would  be  just 
and  conscientious  in  all  she  undertook. 

He  had  risen  at  such  an  unwonted  hour  that  he  had 
a  long  day  on  his  hands,  and  it  promised  to  be  a 
sultry  one.  How  should  he  entertain  himself?  He 
might  take  a  few  photographs.  Yes,  that  was  just  the 
thing.  Would  Tom  go  with  him,  he  wondered,  and 
help  carry  the  burdensome  materials?  Certainly  he 
would.  Tom  had  conceived  a  prodigious  fancy  for 
the  "big  fellow  from  Chicago,"  and  liked  nothing 
better  than  rambling  off  with  him  to  the  Cascade  in  a 
broiling  sun,  encumbered  by  instrument  and  chemicals. 

Mr.  Kirke  took  several  views,  and  spent  most  of  the 
afternoon  in  elaborating  two  of  them,  which  turned 
out  to  be  darker  and  gloomier  than  the  views  of  a 
pessimist.  Tom  was  aware  of  a  great  strain  upon  his 
conscience  when  he  tried  to  praise  them. 

"  The>  most  that  ails  'em  is  the  black  spatters,"  said 
he  hesitatingly.  "There  wasn't  any  ink  in  any  of 
them  bottles,  was  there?  " 

The  landlord's  comments  were  in  the  same  vein. 
*'  Like  enough  they'd  be  firstrate,  if  they  weren't 
mildewed,"  he  said,  as  anxious  as  Tom  to  be  polite, 
and  equally  afraid  of  sacrificing  the  truth. 


DRONES'  HONEY.  67 

The  amateur  artist  was  divided  between  scornful 
contempt  of  his  own  work,  and  amusement  at  these 
free  criticisms. 

"  I  believe  I'll  show  them  to  Miss  Wilder,  just  for 
the  fun  of  the  thing.  Will  it  do  to  call  this  evening? 
I'm  afraid  not." 

Yet  when  he  went  out  for  a  stroll  after  tea,  he  was 
careful  to  place  the  pictures  in  his  pocket.  It  was  doubt 
ful  when  Miss  Wilder  would  see  them,  but  it  was  well 
to  have  them  with  him.  He  owed  it  to  her,  he  thought, 
to  ask  her  what  were  her  favorite  bits  of  landscape ; 
and  it  might  be  polite  even  to  offer  her  the  camera,  and 
instruct  her  how  to  use  it.  He  would  be  glad  to  help 
her  in  this  way,  if  she  would  not  laugh  at  him. 

Mr.  Simpson  was  close  at  his  heels  as  he  left  the 
house. 

"  Better  come  out  on  the  bridge,  and  see  the  river- 
drivers,  Mr.  Kirke." 

The  bridge  was  so  near  the  hotel  that  the  landlord 
seemed  to  regard  it  as  a  sort  of  annex,  and  spent  much 
of  his  leisure  time  standing  on  it,  looking  down  into 
the  water.  Mr.  Kirke  joined  him  now ;  and  in  com 
pany  with  a  score  of  other  people,  old  and  young, 
they  leaned  over  the  bridge-railing  to  watch  the  men 
in  gray,  known  as  "river-drivers,"  who  were  setting 
loose  a  "  jam  of  logs." 

"  It's  a  dreadful  late  season  and  low  water,  or  the 
logs  would  have  been  down  before,"  said  Mr.  Simpson, 
as  if  the  delinquencies  of  Nature  ought  to  be  excused 
to  a  stranger. 

"This  is  all  new  to  me.  Why,  it's  like  a  huge 
game  of  jack-straws,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Kirke. 


68  DRONES'  HONEY. 

The  logs  were  pressed  closely  together,  forming  a 
sizable  island  six  feet  high,  technically  a  "jam,"  on 
which  stood  thirty  men  with  long  hooked  poles,  detach 
ing  one  log  after  another  from  the  irregular  mass,  to 
send  it  whirling  after  its  fellows. 

"So  it  is ;  yes.  I  used  to  play  'em  when  I  was  a 
youngster,"  replied  Mr.  Simpson  after  a  long  interval, 
during  which  Mr.  Kirke  had  forgotten  his  allusion  to 
jack-straws,  and  was  left  to  wonder  vaguely  what  the 
man  was  talking  about. 

"  Used  to  be  as  pretty  again  when  they  all  wore  red 
shirts.  You  ought  to  have  seen  'em  thirty  years  ago, 
decked  out  in  red,  and  you'd  have  said  it  was  a  hand 
some  spectacle.  — Why,  Theodate,  is  that  you?" 

"  Good-evening,  Mr.  Simpson ;  good-evening,  Mr. 
Kirke,"  replied  Miss  Wilder,  setting  down  a  good-sized 
flat  package,  and  leaning  over  the  railing  to  watch  the 
busy  crew. 

"  Isn't  that  fine  now?"  said  Mr.  Kirke,  longmg  to 
expend  some  of  his  surplus  muscle  in  wielding  one  of 
the  cant-dogs.  "  Would  they  let  me  go  down  there 
and  lend  a  hand,  do  you  think,  Mr.  Simpson? " 

"  No,  they'd  only  laugh  at  }TOU,"  replied  the  landlord 
slowly,  casting  a  pitying  eye  on  the  youth's  faultless 
linen  and  the  gimcracks  he  wore  for  sleeve-buttons. 
"  You  were  cut  out  for  a  regular  Samson,  but  you  see 
you've  been  spoiled  in  the  bringing  up.  It  may  look 
easy  to  you,  what  they're  doing,  but  'twould  keel  you 
up  in  half  an  hour." 

The  patronizing  tone  rather  nettled  Ben  Kirke,  the 
champion  rower  and  polo- player,  who  felt  that  he  had 
it  in  him  to  throw  any  one  of  the  stalwart  river-drivers 


DRONES'  HONEY.  69 

on  the  jam  ;  but  he  chose  to  ignore  this  slighting  re 
mark. 

"  Do  you  understand  the  game,  Miss  Wilder?  "  he 
asked,  as  the  ejaculations  of  the  men,  short  and  ear 
nest,  rose  on  the  air:  "  Hello!  Heave  there!  Now 
for  it!" 

"  No,  I'm  not  initiated.  I  only  know  it  takes  a 
certain  amount  of  shouting  as  well  as  prying  to  start 
the  logs." 

"  No,  there's  a  science  to  it,"  said  the  landlord. 
"  You  see,  there's  one  particular  log  they're  aiming  for, 
the  one  that  holds  the  jam.  There's  always  one  log 
that  does  the  business." 

"Like  the  key-stone  of  an  arch,"  exclaimed  Miss 
Wilder. 

"  Well,  yes.  They  call  it  the  key-log;  and,  when 
they're  smart  enough  to  get  hold  of  that  and  pry  it  up, 
the  jam  breaks,  and  off  goes  the  whole  caboodle  of  'em. 
Now,  you  hold  on  a  while,"  pursued  Mr.  Simpson,  tak 
ing  off  his  hat  and  wiping  his  excited  crown.  "  You 
just  hold  on  a  little  while.  I  think  it's  a  doubt  if  they 
get  it  off  to-night ;  but,  if  they  do,  it's  worth  staying 
for,  ain't  it,  Theodate?" 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  pushing  back  her  shade-hat  to 
insure  a  clearer  view ;  whereupon  a  hairpin  stole  out, 
and  down  fell  a  heavy  mass  of  purple-black  hair,  sweep 
ing  her  shoulders  and  shimmering  in  the  sun.  She 
caught  up  the  recreant  coil,  and  carelessly  put  it  back 
in  place,  thinking  of  Lizzie  Hexam  and  of  the  trial 
it  was  to  make  straight  hair  stay  up.  She  would  have 
been  surprised  if  she  had  known  that  Mr.  Kirke  was 
regarding;  her  with  admiration; 


70  DRONES'  HONEY. 

"  "What  hair  and  eyes !  She  just  escapes  being  a 
magnificent  woman." 

She  was  looking  intently  at  the  log-drivers,  her  head 
bent  a  little  forward,  her  hands  clasping  the  railing. 
Well-shaped  hands  they  were,  rather  small  for  her  size, 
but  very  brown  from  exposure  to  the  sun ;  for  she 
sketched  every  afternoon  out  of  doors,  and,  of  course, 
without  gloves. 

"  Regarding  her  in  the  light  of  a  piece  of  furniture, 
you'd  call  her  Eastlake.  Regarding  her  as  a  piece  of 
architecture,  you'd  call  her  Gothic.  Why  doesn't  she 
decorate  herself?"  thought  Mr.  Kirke,  and  resumed 
his  watch  of  the  logs.  It  was  an  exciting  moment. 
"  Hurrah  !  'rah  !  'rah  ! "  The  banks  took  up  the  echo. 
Off  went  every  man's  hat,  and  up  it  flew  in  air,  includ 
ing  the  disinterested  hats  of  the  men  on  the  bridge. 
The  secret  was  out,  the  key  found,  the  prison  unlocked, 
the  captives  at  large.  "Hurrah!  hurrah!"  The 
merry  giants  were  certainly  alive,  and  quivering  with 
delight  at  their  recovered  freedom.  It  was  impossible 
not  to  rejoice  with  them,  as  they  made  triumphant 
curvets  to  try  their  powers.  North,  south,  east,  and 
west  they  turned,  before  launching  eastward  at  last 
down  the  watery  highway  toward  the  sea. 

"  Was  it  worth  staying  for,  Mr.  Kirke?  "  asked  Miss 
Wilder. 

"  I  would  have  waited  all  night  for  a  sight  like  that," 
said  the  young  man,  drawing  in  his  breath,  as  the  last 
loitering  logs  were  caught  up  in  the  hurrying  current 
and  disappeared  below  the  bridge. 

"  See  what  an  excitement  they  leave  in  the  water," 
said  Miss  Wilder.  "That  wild,  free  motion  is  the 


DRONES'  HONEY.  /I 

despair  of  an  artist ;  it  is  forever  eluding  him  and 
dying  on  the  point  of  his  brush.  O  Mr.  Kirke,  what 
of  the  camera?  Have  you  taken  any  pictures?" 

"  Two.  May  I  show  them  to  you?"  feeling  in  his 
breast-pocket.  "  But  no,  I  hardly  dare  ;  they  are  really 
too  appalling." 

"But  I  enjoy  being  frightened.  Let  me  see  them, 
please. ' ' 

"At  your  own  risk,  Miss  Wilder,  —  if  you'll  allow 
me  to  walk  home  with  you  and  carry  that  parcel." 

"  Certainly.  Then  Miss  Searle  will  share  the  pleas 
ure  of  seeing  your  pictures." 

As  they  walked  off  the  bridge,  Mr.  Kirke  feeling 
that  he  had  scored  several  points  at  one  stroke,  Mr. 
Simpson  wiped  his  head  leisurely,  and  looked  after 
them,  saying  to  a  bystander,  — 

"  That's  as  fine  a  young  fellow  as  I  ever  saw  in  this 
town,  and  I've  lived  here  over  seventy-five  years.  But 
it's  a  pity  he  hadn't  some  regular  trade,  so  he  wouldn't 
go  fooling  round  in  the  daguerreotype  business.  It 
looks  to  me  as  if  he  had  bit  off  more'n  he  can  chew." 

They  passed  the  hotel  piazza,  where  two  men  were 
seated  playing  a  serious  game  of  checkers.  Next  door 
was  the  shop  of  Seth  Cromwell,  "  Tin-plate  and  sheet- 
iron  worker,"  father  of  Andrew ;  and  opposite  was  a 
comprehensive  variety  store,  with  a  stunted  tree  close 
by  it,  writhing  under  the  ignoble  legend,  "  Good  Family 
Butter."  Next  the  store  was  a  large  post-office,  which 
included  a  town-library  and  reading-room.  The  church 
was  farther  on  up  the  hill,  surrounded  by  an  open 
space  which  served  as  a  sort  of  village  green. 

"Those   church-windows  are  obliged   to  wink  at  a 


j2  DRONES'  HONEY. 

good  deal  of  secular  conduct,"  said  Miss  Wilder,  as 
they  passed  a  crowd  of  boys  playing  ball.  One  of  the 
boys,  seeing  her,  caught  up  a  battered  tin  pail  which 
had  been  reposing  on  the  church-steps,  and  ran  to  meet 
her,  swinging  it  in  his  hands. 

"Say,  want  any  plums?  Picked  'em  this  after 
noon,"  whipping  off  a  piece  of  newspaper,  and  reveal 
ing  a  moist  substance  resembling  raspberry  jam,  reeking 
with  purple  juice. 

"Why,  Jimmy,  what  is  it?  No,  of  course  I  don't 
want  that!" 

The  boy's  freckled  face  deepened  to  orange  color,  as 
he  sulkily  replaced  the  newspaper,  glowered  at  Mr. 
Kirke,  and  ran  back  to  his  game. 

"  The  rhubarb  boy?  I  hardly  knew  him  without  the 
foliage." 

"  Yes  ;  but  why  did  I  crash  him  in  that  way  ?  "  ex 
claimed  Miss  Wilder  in  compunctious  tones,  thinking 
how  sweetly  Evelyn  would  have  declined  the  dreadful 
plums,  and  sent  him  off  smiling. 

"  You  haven't  crushed  him.  You  couldn't  do  it 
with  a  mangle,"  said  Mr.  Kirke,  as  Jimmy  ran  forward 
chasing  the  ball  with  shouts  of  laughter,  leaving  the 
forgotten  "plums"  drowning  still  deeper  in  their 
heart's  gore. 

All  the  way  up  the  hill  the  path  was  bordered  on  the 
right  by  elms  and  maples,  whose  boles  reached  to  a  mag 
nificent  girth  and  made  great  stretches  of  shadow  upon 
the  soft  grass  below.  A  row  of  cinnamon-rose  bushes 
by  the  corner  of  an  old  fence  scattered  glowing  petals 
wastefully  at  Mr.  Kirke's  feet  as  he  brushed  by  them. 
And  now  they  both  paused  a  moment,  for  they  had  a 


DROA7ES'  HONEY.  73 

good  outlook  here  upon  the  river,  fringed  with  beeches, 
willows,  oilnuts,  and  those  most  graceful  of  all  small 
trees,  tender  white  birches.  Neither  of  them  spoke, 
and  no  sound  arose  louder  than  their  own  breaths  ; 
but  soon  a  faint  and  gradually  increasing  noise  mur 
dered  the  sweet  silence.  It  was  the  exasperating  creak 
of  Mr.  Crabtree's  cart-wheels  struggling  up  the  hill. 

"Good-evening,  is  that  you?"  he  called  out,  in 
tones  loud  enough  to  speak  a  ship  in  a  storm.  "  Wait 
a  minute." 

He  had  come  to  a  full  halt  now  on  the  steepest  point 
of  the  hill,  to  the  manifest  inconvenience  of  his  meekly 
surprised  horse.  "Wait  a  minute.  Did  you  hear  of 
the  scare  they  had  last  night  up  to  the  Putnams',  about 
burglars?  " 

"  No,  oh,  no  !"  cried  Theodate,  her  eyes  bright  with 
terror. 

"Oh,  don't  be  scared  now!  Only,  your  silver  — 
where  are  you  in  the  habit  of  keeping  of  it?  " 

"  In  the  sideboard,  —  what'-s  not  on  the  table." 

"  Why  don't  you  set  it  out  on  the  front-door  stone  ?  " 
rejoined  Mr.  Crabtree  playfully.  "  Now,  don't  you 
woriy  a  minute  about  them  burglars,  Theodate.  I 
don't  know's  there's  any  truth  in  it,  but  my  wife  was 
of  the  opinion  I'd  better  name  it  to  j^ou.  — Giddap  !  " 
And,  leaving  the  thorn  to  rankle  as  it  might,  the 
obliging  neighbor  rode  away  in  triumph. 

"What  unmitigated  nonsense!  I  don't  believe  a 
word  of  it,"  said  Mr.  Kirke,  turning  to  his  companion, 
who  stood  perfectly  still,  bent  forward,  her  face  quite 
colorless,  and  her  breath  coming  with  difficulty.  "Take 
my  arm,  Miss  Wilder.  Lean  on  me." 


74  DRONES'  HONEY. 

"Thank  you.  I  am  — better  now,"  said  she  with 
a  quiver  of  the  mouth,  that  tried  hard  to  be  a  smile. 
"I  am  not  frightened  to  death,  Mr.  Kirke  ;  it  was 
only  the  —  suddenness.  I  have  slight  attacks  of  pal 
pitation  of  the  heart  —  sometimes."  And  she  erected 
herself  and  walked  slowly  on.  "  You  see  now  why  I 
stooped  forward  and  dropped  my  arms?  It  arrests  the 
palpitation." 

"  Yes,  I  understand,"  said  he  gravely. 

Her  face  was  still  very  pale. 

"But  don't  think  again  of  that  foolish  story.  I 
will  patrol  your  grounds  all  night,  if  it  will  relieve 
your  mind.  I  will,  indeed." 

"  Thank  you ;  but  really  I  am  not  a  coward.  Do 
not  misapprehend  me,"  said  she,  laughing  bravely. 
"  I  will  confide  to  j'ou,  Mr.  Kirke,  that  I  own  a  pistol, 
and  can  fire  it,  too,  if  occasion  should  require." 

"Is  it  possible?" 

"  Oh,  you  are  not  to  imagine  I  am  of  a  murderous 
disposition  and  wear  it  at  my  side.  But  Mr.  Fiske, 
your  friend,  persuaded  me  that  it  was  well  to  learn  to 
fire  at  a  mark  ;  and  I  have  practised  a  little." 

"Bravo!  "  said  Mr.  Kirke.  He  was  keeping  step 
with  Miss  Wilder,  but  did  not  venture  to  offer  his  arm 
again.  "  It  seems  that  you  know  Mr.  Fiske  well?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  !  He  is  an  enchanting  young  man,  —  gay, 
and  full  of  anecdote.  But  did  you  ever  know  him  still 
for  a  minute?"  She  smiled  as  she  spoke,  drawing  a 
mental  comparison,  perhaps,  between  the  youth  in  per 
petual  motion  and  this  athletic,  easy-going  giant  by  her 
side. 

"No,  never,"  responded   Mr.  Kirke,  thinking   the 


DROATES'  HONEY.  75 

erratic,  uncertain  Joe  must  have  been  on  his  best 
behavior  at  Narransauc ;  for  surely  he  was  not  in 
general  considered  "enchanting."  "The  boy  has  a 
bright,  quick  mind,"  he  continued  heartily.  "His 
older  brother  was  a  particular  friend  of  mine,  my 
chum  at  college." 

"  Arthur,  the  one  who  died?  We  have  heard  much 
about  him.  Was  he  really  so  superior?  " 

"  I  thought  so.  He  had  a  remarkable  influence  over 
his  friends.  His  brother  needed  him  ;  and  it  would 
have  made  all  the  difference  in  the  world  to  Joe,  if  he 
had  lived." 

"Now,  do  you  know  I  can  easily  believe  that? 
Bryant  —  or  Joe  as  you  call  him  —  is  a  brilliant,  ver 
satile  fellow,  rather  inclined  to  look  up  to  people  older 
than  himself  ;  is  it  not  so?  " 

Mr.  Kirke  could  hardly  forbear  smiling  at  the 
innocent  art  of  the  question.  Naturally  Joe  had 
looked  up  to  these  two  young  ladies ;  that  went  with 
out  the  saying. 

"  Yes,  he  is  amenable  to  advice  from  people  he 
esteems;  not  from  every  one,  though."  And  he 
thought  of  the  boy's  poor  mother,  a  childish  woman, 
who  called  Joe  hard-headed,  and  bemoaned  to  all  the 
world  her  lack  of  influence  over  him. 

' '  Mr.  Fiske  was  at  Harvard  all  last  winter,  you 
know,  as  well  as  the  winter  before  ;  and  we  were  in 
Boston,  and  he  came  out  regularly  to  spend  two  even 
ings  a  week  with  us." 

"  Ah  !  Then  you  ought  to  feel  well  acquainted  with 
him.*' 

"  Oh,  yes  !     And  he  was  here  a  long  time  last  sum- 


76  DROATES'  HONEY. 

mer,  certainly  a  month.  He  is  very  old  for  his  years, 
very  manly.  Don't  you  think  he  has  unusual  tenacity 
of  purpose;  or  am  I  mistaken?"  she  added,  without 
any  apparent  reason  for  the  question.  "That  is,  he 
would  not  be  easily  turned  from  a  cherished  plan  — 
well,  an  idea?" 

"Why  not  ask  it  outright:  will  he  be  constant  in 
love,  and  so  a  trial  to  Miss  Searle?"  thought  Mr. 
Kirke,  much  amused ;  though  he  managed  to  answer 
demurely,  "  I  hardly  know,  he  is  still  so  young." 

But  they  were  on  the  piazza  now.  Miss  Searle  was 
coming  toward  them  with  a  smile  of  greeting,  and  the 
tall  clock  on  the  stairs  striking  eight  put  a  summary 
end  to  the  conversation. 


DRONES'  HONEY.  77 


VII. 

"  Happy  are  they  that  hear  their  detractions, 
And  can  put  them  to  mending." 

SHAKSPEARE'S  Much  Ado. 

days  glided  on  very  quietly  for  Mr.  Kirke.  He 
•*-  received  pleasant  hospitalities  from  Mr.  Searle's 
family,  had  bookish  chats  with  young  Mr.  Marsh,  the 
clergyman,  walked,  fished,  bicycled ;  and,  above  all, 
paid  daily  visits  to  Violet  Hill.  It  was  not  an  exciting 
mode  of  pleasure-seeking ;  but  he  liked  the  air  of  the 
town,  so  he  told  his  landlady,  who  replied  delightedly, 
that  it  was  always  so  with  strangers,  with  the  single 
exception  of  "that  lady  from  Boston."  People  who 
came  to  Narransauc  were  sure  to  stay  on,  she  said. 
The  middle  of  July  was  usually  the  time  to  look  for 
them,  and  that  would  soon  be  here. 

A  new  awning  of  blue-checked  goods,  notched  at  the 
edges  and  bound  with  scarlet,  floated  now  from  the 
upper  piazza.  A  servant-girl  appeared  in  the  kitchen  ; 
and  Mr.  Simpson  began  to  hint  mysteriously  of  "  par 
ties  "  from  Portland  and  from  Lynn  who  wished  to  en 
gage  rooms,  and  Tom  was  charged  to  give  the  "  span  " 
an  extra  grooming  in  view  of  coming  demands.  This 
span  presented  the  pleasing  contrast  of  a  large  white 
horse  and  a  small  black  nag,  and  drew  a  carryall  which 
seated  four  souls.  "For  example,  the  young  ladies, 


78  DRONES'  HONEY. 

Cousin  Ozro  Searle,  and  myself,"  thought  Mr.  Kirke, 
surveying  it  one  da}'  in  an  observant  mood. 

Oak  Hill  was  three  miles  away,  the  point  of  view 
Miss  Wilder  desired  to  put  on  canvas.  He  took  no 
pride  in  his  blunders  with  the  camera,  but  the  hope  of 
helping  her  to  the  ground-idea  of  a  new  picture  gave 
him  a  glow  of  purety  benevolent  pleasure.  Why  should 
he  not  go  to  see  the  young  ladies,  and  ask  them  if  they 
would  like  a  ride  some  day  to  Oak  Hill?  It  was  one 
of  the  fairest  of  summer  evenings,  and  Narrausauc  was 
largely  out  of  doors  enjoying  it.  The  girls  and  boys 
from  the  two  coat-shops  were  at  leisure,  the  noisy  brass 
band  was  parading  the  street,  and  altogether  the  town 
presented  a  festive  appearance  which  would  have  sur 
prised  Miss  Belcher  of  Boston.  As  the  band  tramped 
by  the  hotel,  the  crimson  roses  growing  luxuriantly  on 
the  eastern  side  dropped  their  petals  in  showers,  but 
the  two  men  seated  as  usual  on  the  piazza  at  checkers 
never  even  looked  up  from  their  game.  Seth  Crom 
well,  the  "  sheet-iron  and  tin  worker,"  was  taking 
down  his  samples  of  tin  ware  ;  and  the  rays  of  the  set 
ting  sun,  illumining  the  big  coffee-pot,  struck  a  blaze  of 
reflected  light  into  Mr.  Kirke's  eyes  as  he  passed  by 
the  door. 

On  his  way  half  up  the  long  hill,  he  overtook  Rosa 
and  Peter.  Rosa  called  after  him,  and  when  he 
stopped  seemed  frightened  at  what  she  had  done. 

"I  didn't  think,"  said  she;  "I  mean  I  thought  — 
Was  you  going  up  to  see  the  young  ladies?  " 

"  Is  there  any  thing  I  can  do  for  you,  Rosa?"  he 
asked,  smiling;  while  handsome  Peter  smiled  too  at 
her  incoherence. 


DRONES'  HONEY.  79 

She  was  evidently  taking  home  the  night's  mail  from 
the  post-office,  for  both  hands  were  burdened  with 
letters. 

"  I  don't  know  as  Miss  Wilder" — he  observed  she 
did  not  say  Miss  Searle  —  "  would  like  it ;  "  and  then 
she  held  out  the  letters.  "  But  if  it  wouldn't  be  no 
trouble"  — 

"  Certainty,  I  will  take  them  for  3*011  with  pleasure," 
said  Mr.  Kirke.  "  I  suppose  you  and  Peter  want  to 
go  down  and  hear  the  band  play." 

It  was  a  little  thing,  and  he  was  glad  to  oblige  the 
interesting  pair ;  but,  in  glancing  carelessly  at  the  let 
ters,  he  could  not  help  seeing  that  one  of  them  was 
from  Joseph  Fiske,  no  doubt  in  reply  to  the  wandering 
epistle  which  must  have  reached  him  at  last. 

"  Sorry  to  have  to  give  it  to  her,"  he  thought.  "  I 
wonder  where  this  thing  is  going  to  end." 

He  found  both  the  young  ladies  in  the  garden  at  the 
rear  of  the  house  ;  Miss  Searle  wielding  a  pair  of  scis 
sors,  Miss  Wilder  a  trowel,  while  Cousin  Ozro  knelt 
before  them  planting  some  sort  of  a  vine.  They  greeted 
Mr.  Kirke  very  cordially.  "  So  you  have  turned  knight- 
errant,"  said  Miss  Wilder,  coming  up  to  him  in  her 
dignified  way,  and  holding  out  her  free  hand  for  the 
mail.  Miss  Searle  approached  with  her  usual  "  skip 
ping  grace,"  but  flushed  as  she  received  and  looked  at 
her  letters,  and  grasped  at  the  syringa-tree  with  a  nerv 
ous  motion. 

"  Pray  go  into  the  summer-house,  young  ladies,  and 
look  over  your  mail,"  said  Mr.  Kirke.  "I  hope  you 
are  both  very  well." 

"Miss  Searle  is  not  well;  she  is   killing  herself," 


80  DRONES'  HONEY. 

replied  Miss  Wilder  flatly.  "  What  do  you  think  of  a 
young  lady,  Mr.  Kirke,  who  writes  six  hours  in  the 
morning  at  the  top  of  her  bent,  and  teaches  a  charity 
school  in  the  afternoon  in  weather  like  this  ?  ' 

"  What  do  I  think  of  her?  I  think  she  is  too  good 
for  this  world,  and  is  trying  to  fly  out  of  it." 

"  Now  listen  to  me,"  retorted  Miss  Searle,  waving  a 
gesture  toward  Miss  Wilder.  "  What  do  }7ou  think  of 
a  young  lady,  Mr.  Kirke,  who  teaches  painting  every 
morning  with  might  and  main,  and  goes  sketching  every 
afternoon  in  weather  like  this?  " 

"  Go  along  into  the  summer-house,  girls,"  cried  out 
Ozro.  "Mr.  Kirke  and  I  would  like  a  little  peace, 
and  you  are  always  quarrelling.  —  I  am  planting  a 
matrimony  vine,"  he  added,  as  they  disappeared ; 
"  and  it  makes  me  feel  as  I  do  when  I  make  an  offer 
of  marriage,  and  don't  know  whether  it  will  be  accepted 
or  not." 

Ozro  was  a  would-be  wit  of  eighteen,  with  "  seedling 
brains,"  which  would  perhaps  amount  to  something  in 
time,  if  his  friends  only  had  the  patience  to  wait  for 
them  to  grow. 

"Isn't  this  a  scarecrow  of  a  garden,  though?  Oh, 
you  needn't  say  any  thing  !  I  know  what  you  think." 

The  garden  was  by  no  means  of  the  regulation  pat 
tern,  but  just  an  exuberant  tangle  of  pleasant  surprises  ; 
here  a  syringa-tree,  there  a  row  of  currant-bushes ;  in 
this  corner  a  gray  rock  overgrown  with  creeping  money 
wort  and  moss ;  in  a  southern  nook  a  mound  with  a 
trellis  hidden  by  grape-leaves ;  and  under  a  weeping- 
willow,  that  had  no  business  there,  a  brown  summer- 
house  in  the  shape  of  a  Swiss  chdlet. 


DRONE'S  HONEY.  8 1 

"  Mr.  Kirke,  you  are  obliged  to  admire  this  garden," 
said  Ozro,  rising  from  his  knees.  "  You  mustn't  say  it 
looks  helter-skelter.  It's  only  picturesque.  You  see 
the  girls  mix  it  up  this  way  on  purpose,"  which  was 
literally  true.  They  had  "  mixed  "  it  carefully;  and, 
though  Nature  seemed  to  run  riot,  she  had  been  sternly 
checked  and  pruned,  till  you  would  look  in  vain  for  a 
recreant  weed  or  broken  stem  in  all  the  lush  profusion. 

Miss  Wilder  had  not  finished  reading  her  letters ; 
but  Miss  Searle  came  out  of  the  chdlet,  and  said  to 
Mr.  Kirke  with  a  hospitable  smile,  — 

"This  is  like  a  walk  into  the  country,  isn't  it? 
Come  with  me.  I  am  going  to  cut  some  flowers  for 
Ozro  to  take  down  to  the  Temperance  Hall.  We'll 
begin  with  the  plebeian  ones." 

She  led  the  way  to  the  fence-border,  where  stood 
sundry  thistles  with  needles  in  their  sides,  and  tall 
sunflowers,  which  she  said,  laughingly,  had  striven  so 
hard  to  follow  the  sun,  that  they  had  brought  on 
curvature  of  the  spine.  "  I  love  sunflowers.  They  are 
found  from  Maine  to  Arizona,  indifferent  to  change  of 
climate,  so  long  as  their  sun-god  is  only  in  sight.  —  Do 
you  want  some  of  the  straightest  of  these,  for  the 
Egyptian  vase,  Ozro?  "  Next  she  was  bending  over  a 
little  plat  of  daisies,  which  she  said  were  from  the 
grave  of  Burns ;  but  they  looked  too  fair  and  frail  to 
be  disturbed,  and  she  passed  on  in  a  zigzag  course 
to  the  rose-bushes,  plucking  one  of  each  variety  till 
both  her  hands  were  full.  "There,  I  can't  spare  any 
more  roses,  Ozro,  but  you  may  have  any  thing  else  you 
can  find  ;  and  I'll  lend  you  the  large  fountain  vase,  if 
you  like.  — Shall  we  go  into  the  house  now,  Mr.  Kirke  ?  " 


82  DROA7ES'  HONEY. 

Her  letter  from  Mr.  Fiske  had  disturbed  her  greatty. 
It  was  the  third  on  the  same  subject,  full  of  a  fierce 
despair;  though  the  despair  was  conditional,  and  he 
would  delay  going  into  sackcloth  till  he  heard  from 
her  again.  He  knew  she  would  change  her  mind. 

"How  man}-  times  must  I  go  through  all  this?" 
she  mused,  the  thin  smile  of  hospitality  gradually  dis 
appearing,  and  revealing  a  sad  mouth  with  a  droop  at 
the  corners.  She  did  not  perceive  that  Mr.  Kirke  was 
looking  at  her,  or  suspect  that  he  held  the  key  to  her 
thoughts. 

"  Shall  we  sit  here  on  the  piazza,  Mr.  Kirkc?  " 

There  were  rustic  chairs  there,  and  a  lounge.  She 
took  one  of  the  chairs,  and  he  chose  a  lower  place  on 
one  of  the  piazza  steps.  They  sat  a  while  in  silence, 
looking  at  the  westering  sun,  and  noting  the  shadows 
cast  by  the  trees  and  houses  far  below  them  in  the 
village. 

"What  is  the  most  interesting  part  of  that  land 
scape  to  you?"  said  Miss  Searle  at  last. 

"  The  place  where  the  sk}*  and  earth  meet,  by  all 
means." 

"  That  is  just  what  I  think,"  she  rejoined  ;  "  not  the 
sky  alone  or  the  earth  alone,  but  the  horizon.  Why  is 
it,  I  wonder?" 

"Because  we  are  mortal,"  said  Mr.  Kirke  promptly, 
"  and  the  sky  is  too  vague  for  us  unless  it  touches  the 
earth  somewhere." 

"Is  that  it?" 

"  I  believe  so ;  just  as  a  sermon  must  have  some 
human  nature  in  it,  or  it  does  not  move  us.  Now, 
that's  the  fault  of  your  good  preacher,  Mr.  Marsh,  if 


DROArES'  HONEY.  83 

you'll  pardon  me.  When  he  goes  into  the  pulpit,  he 
leaves  the  earth  behind  him  ;  and  we  strain  our  eyes  to 
find  a  horizon  line  somewhere,  but  can't,  and  then  we 
get  lost  in  the  blue." 

Miss  Searlc  laughed.  "  He  is  very  abstracted  and 
vague,  I  admit ;  but,  then,  he  is  very  young.  When  he 
has  a  little  more  knowledge  of  the  world,  he  can  meet 
our  wants  better." 

"Is  it  not  the  same  thing  with  writing?  "  asked  Mr. 
Kirke,  wishing  to  divert  her  thoughts.  "•  I  fancy  you 
cannot  touch  the  popular  heart  unless  you  mingle  with 
various  sorts  of  people,  and  make  a  study  of  human 
nature?  " 

"  Very  true.  The  secret  of  writing  is  the  capacit}* 
to  feel,  and  to  make  others  feel.  It  is  magnetism  on 
the  point  of  a  pen." 

Mr.  Kirke  looked  up  with  an  appreciative  smile.  He 
thought  this  was  well  said. 

"  Not  that  I  have  this  power  myself,"  added  Miss 
Searle  modestly.  "  I  can  only  discern  what  it  is,  and 
long  for  it.  I  am  no  genius." 

Mr.  Kirke  did  not  know  how  far  she  might  under 
value  herself  ;  yet,  with  or  without  genius,  he  was  aware 
that  she  had  earned  the  money  to  give  her  younger 
brother  a  liberal  education,  and  to  supply  the  wants  of 
her  mother's  declining  years,  —  she,  a  frail  girl,  as 
gentle  and  retiring  in  manner  as  his  sister  Lucy.  But 
there  was  something  in  her  eyes  that  Lucy  never  had. 
They  were  eyes  that  dared  all  things,  and  hoped  all 
things.  They  were  eyes  that  looked  bej'ond  this  world, 
and  penetrated  the  veil  of  the  invisible.  He  felt  a  thrill 
of  admiration  for  her,  amounting  to  reverence  ;  an  admi- 


84  DRONES'  HONEY. 

ration  he  would  not  have  expressed  even  if  he  could. 
He  contrasted  her  busy,  full  life  with  Kate  Stanley's 
pursuit  of  the  new  fashions,  and  his  lip  curled.  He 
contrasted  it  with  his  own  aimless  existence,  and  had 
the  grace  to  blush  for  himself. 

"  I  wonder  if  it  is  desirable  to  have  genius,"  said 
he,  breaking  the  pause  with  the  first  words  that  oc 
curred  to  him. 

"Oh,  dear,  no  !  I  should  shrink  from  the  responsi 
bility,"  she  replied  with  a  little  shiver.  "But  it's 
all  service,  after  all.  I've  found  that  out,  Mr.  Kirke : 
whether  your  gifts  are  great  or  small,  they  are  to  be 
used  for  others." 

"  Yes,"  said  he  vaguely.  How  much  had  he  ever 
thought  of  this  before? 

"  We  affect  others  for  good  or  ill,  whether  we  mean 
it  or  not,"  she  went  on.  "  We  can't  live  to  ourselves 
any  more  than  the  leaves  on  a  tree." 

"Oh,  no!" 

His  remarks  were  becoming  rather  brief,  and  per 
haps  it  occurred  to  her  that  this  was  hardly  the  sort  of 
conversation  to  interest  a  professed  idler ;  for  with 
ready  tact  she  broke  off,  saying,  "  To  go  back  to  the 
sky,  Mr.  Kirke,  I  wonder  who  first  called  it  blue. 
The  ancients  had  no  name  for  the  color,  I  believe." 

"  No  ;  they  knew  only  red,  yellow,  and  green.  Peo 
ple  had  to  become  somewhat  enlightened  before  blue 
was  worked  out.  Perhaps  }'ou  might  call  it  rather  a 
spiritual  hue,"  said  he  with  a  smiling  glance  at  her 
turquoise-colored  dress,  which  made  a  fine  setting,  he 
thought,  for  her  fair  face. 

"Blue  is  the  rarest  of   all   hues  in  flowers   now," 


DRONES'  HONEY.  85 

she  rejoined,  "  and  perhaps  it  always  will  be.  Is  it 
not  strange,  though,  that  colors  should  go  on  multi 
plying,  and  that  they  should  follow  the  progress  of 
ideas?  What  a  wonderful  world  it  will  be  when  it  is 
finished!" 

"  It  is  a  wonderful  world  now,"  said  he,  in  a  tone 
of  unwonted  enthusiasm.  The  world  —  his  world  — 
lay  all  before  him,  waiting  for  him.  Should  he  trifle 
longer,  when  the  harvest  was  plenty  and  the  laborers  so 
few?  "It  is  midsummer,  and  the  hay  is  down,"  he 
said,  his  eyes  travelling  quickly  over  the  distant 
meadows.  "  It  is  midsummer,  and  June  is  gone." 

"Oh,  nevermind!  I'm  always  glad  when  June  is 
out  of  the  way.  It's  too  fairy-like,  too  wonderful  to 
last;  and  I'm  so  on  the  alert  not  to  lose  one  drop  of 
its  sweetness,  that  it's  really  quite  fatiguing,"  said 
Miss  Searle,  letting  her  hands  fall  together  with  a 
playful  gesture  of  weariness. 

"June  is  almost  too  exquisite  up  here  in  New 
England,"  returned  Mr.  Kirke.  "I've  spent  several 
springs  in  Cambridge,  and  isn't  it  a  marvel  to  watch 
the  unfolding  of  the  leaves?  " 

"Oh,  yes!  Don't  you  fancy  the  trees  are  glad  to 
reveal  themselves  in  that  quick,  bright  way,  like  poets 
who  have  had  to  keep  their  beautiful  thoughts  shut  up 
in  their  hearts  because  the  cold  world  would  not  listen, 
till  all  at  once  the  world  grows  warm  and  genial,  and 
they  rush  forth  eager  to  confide  in  it?  Am  I  talking 
nonsense?"  she  asked  with  a  slightly  embarrassed 
laugh,  meeting  his  eye. 

He  always  looked  straight  at  her  when  she  spoke ; 
for  she  had  so  many  beguiling  little  motions  of  the 


86  DRONES'  HONEY. 

eyes  and  eyebrows  and  the  flexible  mouth,  that  he  missed 
something  if  he  did  not  see  as  well  as  hear  her  speak. 

But  before  he  had  time  to  assure  her  that  she  was 
talking  the  best  of  sense,  and  that  it  interested  him 
immensely,  a  prosaic  incident  occurred,  such  as  often 
disturbs  the  flow  of  poetic  thought  in  the  country. 
A  disorderly  woman,  without  any  bonnet  on  her  head, 
walked  up  to  the  piazza,  and  asked  if  she  could  borrow 
a  piece  of  salt  pork. 

It  was  Jimmy  Skillings's  mother.  She  had  "been 
devilin'  all  the  afternoon  in  Miss  Putnam's  sullar,"  she 
said,  "  and  nothing  to  show  for  it  but  a  peck  of  white 
beans.  She  wished  she  was  a  washwoman  ;  for  a  wash 
woman  gits  what  she  gits,  and  gits  what  she  gits  give 
her." 

Mr.  Kirke  and  Miss  Searle  exchanged  smiles,  and 
Rosa  was  summoned  to  explore  the  pork-barrel.  After 
this  Miss  Wilder  and  Ozro  came  in  from  the  garden, 
and  it  was  time  to  propose  the  ride  to  Oak  Hill.  The 
young  ladies  were  greatly  obliged,  but  demurred  a 
little.  They  were  busy  people,  with  little  time  to  waste 
in  roaming  about  under  a  hot  sun  ;  and,  besides,  the 
pictures  were  sure  to  be  so  very  bad.  However,  it 
was  settled  at  last  that  they  would  go,  and  Ozro  with 
them,  the  day  after  to-morrow. 

"  Mr.  Kirke,"  said  Miss  Wilder,  as  he  was  taking 
his  leave,  ridiculously  early  as  he  considered  it,  but  he 
knew  they  were  tired,  "  Mr.  Kirke,  can  it  be  only  two 
weeks  that  we  have  known  you  ?  You  seem  quite  like 
an  old  acquaintance  already." 

"  Yes,  it  was  two  weeks  ago  yesterday  that  I  met 
Miss  Searle  on  the  train,  and  was  introduced  to  her; 


DROSSES'  HONEY.  87 

though  I  think  she  did  not  once  look  at  me,  — not  fairly. 
I  tried  to  make  her,  but  she  would  not  turn  around." 

"How  could  I?"  said  Miss  Searle,  a  sensitive 
quiver  running  over  her  face  at  the  recollection  of  the 
day's  annoyances. 

"  There  was  no  need  of  her  looking  at  you. 
Evelyn  can  see  through  the  back  of  her  head,"  said 
Miss  Wilder  very  seriously. 

"Indeed!" 

"  You  would  think  so,  if  you  had  heard  the  off 
hand  sketch  she  gave  me  that  night  of  your  appearance 
and  character." 

"  My  character  ;  how  surprising  !     Tell  it,  please." 

"Now,  Theodate!" 

"  Oh,  never  fear,  Evelyn  !     It  is  safe  with  me." 

"Really,"  said  Mr.  Kirke,  "  it  won't  be  fair,  Miss 
Wilder,  if  you  don't  go  on,  after  exciting  my  curiosity 
in  this  way." 

"  Impossible,"  said  she  roguishly,  "  for  the  descrip 
tion  was  correct  in  every  particular.  Do  you  think  it 
good  manners  to  show  people  their  own  portraits?  " 

"I'd  give  a  small  fortune  to  know  what  she  did 
say  about  me,"  queried  the  young  man,  bounding 
home  with  rapid  strides  through  the  leafy  shadows. 
"  What  a  charm  she  has,  —  a  charm  that  grows  on  you, 
though  not  a  dangerous  one,  as  she  does  not  know 
how  to  use  it !  And  that's  why  I  can't  understand  Joe 
Fiske's  case.  Joe  Fiske  !  The  insane  presumption  ! 
But  what  could  she  have  said  about  me?" 

If  he  had  known,  how  would  the  portrait  have 
pleased  him? 

"  A  very  large,  indolent-looking  young  man,  between 


88  DRONES'  HONEY. 

twenty-five  and  thirty  ;  much  reserved  force  ;  an  inert, 
passive  temperament.  But  temperament  is  deceptive, 
Theodate.  Below  his  gentle,  listless  manner  is  an 
undercurrent  of  force  that  sweeps  all  before  it  when  he 
chooses.  A  good  mind  :  I  gathered  that  from  his  chat 
with  Mr.  Crabtree  ;  though  how  cultivated,  I  cannot  judge. 
A  good  heart  certainly,  or  he  wouldn't  have  allowed  him 
self  to  be  made  ridiculous  by  that  baby.  He  attracted 
me  strongly,  and  at  the  same  time  he  irritated  me.  I 
declare,  Theodate,  I  felt  like  saying  to  him  :  '  Wake 
up,  wake  up.  Life  is  short;  the  world  needs  you.' 
And  he  has  it  in  him  to  do  so  much,  if  he  only  will." 

After  all,  it  might  have  been  well  for  Mr.  Kirke  if 
he  had  heard  this  off-hand  sketch  as  it  was  giveu  from 
the  lips  of  Miss  Searle. 


DRONES'  HONEY.  89 


VIII. 

"  Hut  who  can  tell  what  cause  had  that  fair  maid 

To  use  him  so,  that  loved  her  so  well  ? 
Or  who  with  blame  can  justly  her  upbraid 

For  loviny  not ;  for  who  can  love  compel  ? 

SPENSER. 

"  /CONSIDER  the  lilies,  O  Evelyn,  my  dear,  con- 
*<-J  aider  the  lilies,"  pleaded  Miss  Wilder,  as  she 
entered  the  kitchen  with  head  more  than  usually  erect, 
and  found  Miss  Searle  standing  patiently  before  the 
drop-table,  teaching  her  amateur  writing-class,  —  six 
vagrant  boys  and  Rosa  Dulac ;  while  the  Crabtree 
baby,  who  had  come  visiting,  was  begging  in  a  little, 
high,  squealing  tone  to  be  taken  in  arms.  "  Weren't 
you  tired  enough  without  this,  Evelyn?  Do  go  and 
rest" 

"  I  told  her  so.  I  told  her  she  ought  to  went  and 
rested,"  said  Rosa,  looking  up  with  the  air  of  a  cul 
prit  ;  for  though  ambitious  to  learn  to  write,  because 
Peter  knew  how,  she  could  not  bear  to  have  Miss 
Evelyn  blamed  for  teaching  her. 

Not  one  of  these  boys  could  be  wheedled  into  going 
to  school ;  but  they  were  all  willing  to  spend  an  hour  or 
half  an  hour  in  Miss  Evelyn's  society  on  certain  after 
noons  of  the  week,  lured  by  gingerbread  or  taffy  such 
as  is  only  to  be  found  in  "high  families."  If  they 
got  at  the  same  time  a  little  food  for  the  mind,  it  was 


QO  DRONES'  HONEY. 

certainly  not  their  fault.  It  all  came  of  Miss  Evelyn's 
queer  notions,  and  they  tried  to  forgive  her. 

"  Why,  this  is  nothing,  Theodate,"  said  Miss  Searle, 
taking  up  the  clamorous  baby.  "  I  have  finished  my 
story,  and  married  my  heroine  to  the  wrong  man,  and 
am  so  depressed  over  it  that  I  must  be  diverted.  —  O 
Jimmy  Skillings,  don't  wipe  up  the  blots  with  your 
tongue." 

"See  here,"  said  Jimmy,  casting  sheep's-eyes  at 
Pat  Murphy,  "mayn't  I  quit  now?  Me  and  another 
boy,  we  want  to  go  fishing." 

This  was  rather  an  extra  occasion.  The  whole  class, 
to  a  man,  had  promised  faithfully  not  to  swear  any 
more  or  use  any  bad  words,  "  except  Fourth  of  July," 
and  evidently  felt  that  this  overpowering  sacrifice  de 
served  some  sort  of  reward.  Evelyn  was  a  wise  gen 
eral  :  she  knew  her  men. 

"  Yes,  you  may  all  stop  writing.  Wipe  your  pens, 
and  put  all  your  things  neatly  away  in  the  shed.  Rosa, 
you  may  get  each  of  the  boys  a  stick  of  your  nice 
vinegar  candy  ;  and  boys,  you  needn't  come  again  till 
Monday. .  Now,  don't  forget  to  make  a  polite  bow  when 
you  go  out.  That's  right.  Good-by,  all." 

"The  whole  thing  is  as  easy  for  you  as  picking  a 
flower;  but  what  a  piece  of  work  I  should  make  of 
it !  "  said  Miss  Wilder,  looking  on  with  a  grim  smile  as 
Evelyn's  uncouth  adorers  shuffled  out  respectfully ; 
and  then,  taking  the  lovely  teacher  by  the  arm,  she 
walked  her  off  to  the  back  parlor.  "  Now,  Miss  Nero, 
Miss  Domitian,  Miss —  whatever  name  is  bad  enough 
for  you,  —  what  do  you  mean  by  being  so  cruel  to  your 
self,  you  wicked  creature?  If  you  don't  take  an  im- 


DRONES'  HONEY.  91 

mediate  rest  and  doze  on  that  lounge,  you  may  look 
out  for  vengeance  from  me." 

"  0  you  foolish  old  darling,  working  every  waking 
minute  yourself,  and  then  making  such  an  absurd 
parade  over  the  merest  nothing  I  do,"  responded  Miss 
Seatie,  dropping  her  head  on  her  friend's  neck  with  a 
moment's  abandonment,  as  if  it  swayed  there  against 
her  will,  enticed  by  the  broad,  restful  shoulders. 

Theodate's  dark  eyes  glowed.  It  was  seldom,  piti 
fully  seldom,  that  Evelyn  gave  any  outward  sign  of 
affection  beyond  a  light  kiss  or  a  soft  pat  of  one's 
cheek.  She  had  raised  her  head  even  now,  and  was 
forcing  back  the  tears.  "How  cool  and  cheery  you've 
made  the  rooms  with  all  this  greenery,  Date  dear.  But 
now,  if  you're  going  to  scold,  run  off  to  the  front  par 
lor,  and  draw  \\\Qportfere.  There,  go." 

She  smiled  wearily  when  left  to  herself ;  for,  though 
she  had  not  admitted  it,  she  was  tired  and  sad.  It  had 
been  one  of  the  days  when  it  seemed  as  if  she  could  not 
live  any  longer  without  her  mother. 

"If  ever  there  was  comfort  and  rest  in  a  friend,  I 
have  it  in  Theodate,  and  I  don't  know  how  God  came  to 
be  so  good  as  to  give  her  to  me.  But  I  miss  my  mother  ; 
and  I  cannot  even  say  I  miss  her,  or  it  will  break  Date's 
heart.  O  mother,  mother,  where  are  you  gone?  " 

Evelyn  turned  her  eyes  away  from  the  empty  chair  by 
the  window  :  there  was  an  intolerable  void  there.  She 
glanced  at  the  next  window,  but  the  woodbine  against 
it  nodded,  "  No,  she  is  not  here  ;  "  and  the  tree  at  the 
foot  of  the  terrace  rustled  softly,  "  She  will  not  come 
again."  And  this  must  still  be  borne,  the  "staying 
away  "  of  the  best  beloved. 


Q2  DRONES'  HONEY. 

The  door-bell  had  rung.  Theodate  was  entertaining  a 
visitor  in  the  parlor,  —  by  the  voice,  old  Mrs.  Putnam  ; 
and  Evelyn  smiled  to  hear  the  curt  sentences  which 
Theodate  doled  out  to  her,  —  the  Theodate  who  could 
be  to  those  she  loved  all  warmth  and  kindness. 

"  What  ails  Evelyn,  did  you  say?" 

"  She  is  tired  from  overwork." 

"  You  don't  say  !  Whjr,  all  she  does  is  a  little  writ 
ing,  ain't  it?  Keeps  a  girl  too.  Ain't  Rosa  good  for 
any  thing?  " 

"  Rosa  does  very  well." 

"  Have  you  seen  Mrs.  Morgan  lately?" 

"I  believe  not." 

"  But  you've  heard  what's  going  about  her?  " 

"  No." 

"You  haven't?  Why,  there's  a  dreadful  sight  said 
about  Mrs.  Morgan  lately." 

"Indeed,"  said  Theodate  with  suppressed  ire. 
"  But  there  is  one  comfort,  Mrs.  Putnam  :  we  are  not 
obliged  to  listen  to  it." 

A  dead  silence  followed,  probably  of  disappointment 
and  chagrin,  during  which  Evelyn  laughed  all  by  her 
self,  wondering  how  Theodate  could  have  had  the 
heart  to  cut  off  the  old  lad}'  so  summarily  from  her 
anticipated  gossip.  Mrs.  Putnam  was  merely  empty- 
minded,  not  malicious  ;  and  Evelyn  would  have  listened 
to  her  little  story  with  a  mild  protest,  and  then  deftly 
turned  the  conversation  to  safer  topics.  But  there  was 
no  compromise  in  Theodate,  none  of  the  innocent 
adroitness  which  made  Evelyn  such  a  prime  favorite 
in  society  ;  or,  as  Miss  Seaiie  expressed  it,  "You  can't 
trifle  with  Theodate,  the  grand  creature." 


DRONES'  HONEY.  93 

As  might  have  been  predicted,  the  old  lady  hastened 
to  finish  her  dry  call ;  and  Theodate  soon  after  left  the 
house,  with  a  charge  to  Rosa  that  Miss  Evelyn  must 
not  be  disturbed  on  any  account,  as  she  was  probably 
asleep.  Rosa  listened  with  respectful  incredulit}T  to 
this  bold  flight  of  the  imagination.  Miss  Date  was 
always  fancying  Miss  Evelyn  was  tired,  and  begging 
her  to  go  to  sleep,  —  a  thing  Miss  Evelyn  had  never  yet 
done  in  the  day-time,  so  far  as  Rosa  knew.  In  view 
of  this  fact,  it  is  not  surprising  that  the  girl  quite  for 
got  the  injunction  that  she  "  must  not  be  disturbed." 

At  half-past  five,  the  train  from  Boston  having  been 
in  just  forty  minutes,  Rosa  was  summoned  to  the  door 
by  a  caller,  Mr.  Bryant  Fiske.  She  gave  a  little 
scream  of  pleased  surprise ;  for  she  had  always  liked 
the  man  who  had  told  her  once,  in  such  lt  pooty  French," 
that  her  eyes  were  bright.  He  was  pale  and  slightly 
incoherent,  but  must  see  Miss  Searle  immediately,  he 
said.  He  gave  her  no  card.  None  was  needed,  she 
thought,  from  an  old  friend  like  this.  So,  without  a 
moment's  hesitation,  she  ushered  him  unannounced 
into  the  back  parlor,  where  sat  Miss  Evelyn  regaling 
herself  with  poetry  and  lemonade.  It  was  one  of 
Rosa's  officious  blunders,  such  as  she  herself  was 
quick  to  see  and  regret  when  too  late. 

Miss  Evelyn  turned  verj*  white,  and  let  the  book  fall, 
as  she  rose  and  extended  her  hand,  when  the  quick 
color  surged  back  to  her  face.  She  wanted  to  retreat, 
and  then  wanted  to  make  that  retreat  a  rout ;  for  the 
resolved  look  in  the  youth's  face  intimidated  her. 

"  You  see,"  said  he,  as  Rosa  vanished  in  dismay, 
"  you  see  I  have  come." 


94  DRONES'  HONEY. 

"  Yes  ;  we  did  not  know  you  thought  of  it." 

"  No  ;  it  was  a  sudden  freak." 

He  would  not  sit ;  and  she,  too,  remained  standing. 

"  Did  you  receive  my  second  letter,  Mr.  Fiske?  " 

"Yes;  and  I  find  now,  Miss  Searle,  that  you  did 
answer  1113-  first  one.  But,  do  you  know,  your  answer 
did  not  reach  me  till  last  week." 

"  How  strange  !  " 

"  Where  was  it  lying  all  the  while?  It  was  written 
the  first  of  June,  but  not  mailed  from  here  till  last 
week." 

"I  do  not  know,  Mr.  Fiske.  I  was  astonished 
when  I  learned  you  had  not  received  it.  I  never 
knew  our  postmaster  to  hold  a  letter  over.  He  is  very 
careful." 

"Well,  I  got  it  at  last;  but  I  don't  consider  it  a 
final  answer." 

"OMr.  Fiske!" 

"  Don't  speak  to  me.  I  can't  bear  it.  Don't  crush 
me  yet." 

She  did  not  look  very  formidable  surely,  standing 
there  trembling  visibly,  and  supporting  herself  by  the 
back  of  a  chair. 

"  Though  that  is  just  what  I  came  for,  —  your  final 
answer.  I  could  not  wait  any  longer.  I've  been 
waiting  ever  since  the  world  began." 

"  Pray  be  seated,  Mr.  Fiske." 

He  was  gyrating  now,  with  one  arm  thrown  round 
the  back  of  his  neck,  as  if  lassoing  himself,  —  an  old 
gesture  she  T'emembered.  She  excused  herself  a 
moment,  and  slipped  out  to  bid  Rosa  bring  some  cold 
lemonade ;  and  when  she  came  back,  a  little  more 


DRONES'  HONEY.  95 

self-possessed,  he  was  pacing  the  floor  with  quick 
strides. 

"  I  don't  know  why  you  wrote  such  a  letter,  but 
what  does  that  matter  now  ?  I  am  here,  and  you  can 
change  it  all.  Did  you  think  me  —  do  you  think  me 
presumptuous?  " 

He  spoke  in  a  half-frightened  way,  for  something 
indefinable  in  her  air  reminded  him  that  she  must 
consider  him  very  young.  Either  she  had  matured  a 
little,  or  he  had  rejuvenated  ;  for  the  difference  between 
them  had  increased  within  a  year.  But  how  seraphic 
she  looked  in  that  blue  dress !  Like  a  Madonna  in  a 
cloud.  Poor  Joe !  He  would  have  felt  bitterly  dis 
couraged  if  he  had  known  how  he  himself  looked  at 
that  moment,  —  for  all  the  world  like  a  schoolboy 
called  out  on  the  floor  for  mischief. 

"•  Tell  me,  Miss  Searle,  you  never  thought  that." 

"Oh,  no!  I  simply  thought  you  had  made  a  mis 
take  ;  and  I'm  sure  you  will  see  it  for  yourself,  by 
and  by." 

He  ceased  gyrating,  and  looked  up  at  her  despair 
ingly.  How  came  she  by  that  icicle  in  her  bosom, 
called  a  heart? 

t;  You  don't  mean  that.  You  don't  leave  it  there 
finally.  O  Miss  Searle,  you  can't  be  so  cruel!  " 

She  felt  positively  faint.  If  she  had  only  had  a  little 
of  Theodate's  courage  in  facing  people  with  the  truth ! 
In  her  place,  Theodate  would  have  settled  the  matter 
forever  with  a  decisive  word ;  while  Evelyn  was 
obliged  to  go  over  the  ground  again  and  again,  without 
making  any  visible  progress.  Mr.  Fiske  was  terribly 
depressed,  but  allowed  himself  to  be  persuaded  to 


96  DRONES'  HONEY. 

stay  to  tea.  Miss  Wilder  kindly  undertook  to  cheer 
him,  but  without  success  ;  and  at  eight  o'clock  he  was 
about  to  withdraw  with  a  reproachful,  broken-hearted 
adieu,  when  Mr.  Kirke  dropped  in,  and  created  a 
diversion.  He  was  nnfeignedly  surprised  to  see  Mr. 
Fiske  ;  for  having  been  out  of  town  all  day,  bicycling, 
he  had  not  heard  of  his  arrival.  But  it  was  very  plain 
that  his  pleasure  in  the -meeting  was  not  shared  by  Mr. 
Fiske,  who,  to  use  a  figure  of  speech,  embraced  him 
as  the  Arabs  did  Islam,  "  at  the  point  of  the  sword." 

"  I  saw  Gertrude  and  Lucy  the  other  day.  They 
told  me  you  were  here,"  said  Mr.  Fiske,  twirling  his 
light  mustache  with  something  like  defiance  ;  and  then 
he  sat  down  again.  A  minute  before  he  had  not 
thought  any  thing  worth  while,  even  the  effort  to 
live ;  but  now  it  occurred  to  him  that  he  would  really 
like  to  know  on  what  sort  of  footing  Ben  Kirke  was 
received  at  this  house.  He  would  stay  and  see  for 
himself.  He  had  not  been  well  pleased  to  hear  of  his 
coming  to  Narransauc :  the  news  had  fallen  upon  him 
like  a  shock,  as  well  it  might ;  for  he  considered 
Narransauc  his  own  discovery,  and  had  hoarded  it  from 
the  profane  world  like  a  miser's  treasure.  He  had  yet 
to  learn  where  Ben  Kirke  ever  heard  of  the  town. 

"Kirke,"  said  he,  rallying  with  an  effort,  and  trying 
to  speak  in  his  usual  manner,  "  the  last  I  heard  of 
you,  you  were  bound  for  Newport ;  let's  see,  that 
day  I  was  up  in  your  room  looking  at  bric-a-brac. 
What  changed  your  mind  all  of  a  sudden?" 

"Oh,  I  was  never  really  committed  to  Newport!" 
returned  Mr.  Kirke,  concealing  his  embarrassment 
under  a  nonchalant  manner,  for  he  fancied  the  eyes 


DRONES'  HONEY.  97 

of  both  young  ladies  were  fixed  upon  him  curiously. 
They  must  have  wondered  from  the  first  what  had 
brought  him  to  this  remote  village. 

"  I  was  amazed  when  I  heard  of  you  away  up  here, 
bicj'cle  and  all.  Didn't  know  you  ever  heard  of 
the  place,"  continued  Mr.  Fiske  with  unconscious 
petulance. 

"Ever  heard  of  the  place?  Do  you  suppose  a 
beautiful,  high-bred  sort  of  town  like  this  can  be 
hidden  in  a  napkin?  The  only  thing  to  be  amazed 
about,"  continued  Mr.  Kirke  maliciously,  "is  your 
not  sending  me  up  here  yourself.  When  I  found 
you'd  been  here,  and  become  acquainted,  it  struck  me 
as  rather  shabby  of  you  that  you  hadn't  told  me,  Joe." 

Joe  could  make  no  reply  to  this,  beyond  a  forced 
laugh.  He  had  not  wished  Ben  Kirke  to  discover 
Narransauc,  and  he  had  therefore  carefully  refrained 
from  mentioning  the  town  in  his  hearing.  Still  he 
hardly  knew  himself  why  he  had  so  refrained.  "The 
heart  has  reasons  that  reason  cannot  understand." 
But  he  was  effectually  worsted  now,  and  relapsed  into 
silence  with  that  peculiar  setuess  of  the  lips,  suggestive, 
in  common  phrase,  of  biting  an  imaginary  board-nail. 
The  worst  of  it  was  that  the  conversation  went  on  very 
well  without  him.  He  might  have  slipped  out  of  the 
room,  and  nobody  would  have  missed  him  ;  but  on  that 
very  account  he  preferred  to  stay  and  torture  himself 
by  jealous  watchfulness  of  Mr.  Kirke  and  Evelyn. 
Unhappy  boy !  he  had  the  melancholy  satisfaction  of 
seeing  what  he  brought  eyes  to  see. 

"She  never  talked  to  me  with  such  animation, 
never.  Wish  I  were  taller,  so  she'd  have  to  raise  her 


98  DRONES'  HONEY. 

chin  that  way  when  she  looks  at  me.  How  prettily 
she  does  it !  But  he  is  used  to  seeing  chins  raised,  and 
doesn't  notice  it.  He's  not  taking  the  least  pains  to 
be  agreeable ;  sits  there  as  easy  as  if  he  were  in  his 
own  den  at  home.  Yes,  that's  the  way  he  charms 
them  all,  just  by  not  caring.  Now,  do  you  call  that 
fair?"  He  gave  his  mustache  a  downward,  despair 
ing  pull.  There  was  something  intensely  provoking 
about  Ben  Kirke,  —  if  you  happened  to  be  Joe  Fiske. 
"  Slower  than  the  growth  of  a  tree.  Why,  I  could 
turn  round  three  times  while  he's  getting  ready  to 
speak.  Yet  that's  the  sort  of  fellow  that  takes  with 
women.  Queer.  How  Miss  Wilder's  eyes  shine ! 
Never  saw  her  look  so  handsome.  He's  drawing  her 
in,  drawing  them  both  in  ;  and  they  don't  know  it,  or 
he  either.  Well,  yes,  he  probably  knows  it ;  but 
what  does  he  care?  Ben  Kirke  has  had  every  thing 
without  trying  for  it  all  his  life,  till  I  suppose  it  gets 
monotonous.  But  I  didn't  think  Evelyn  Searle's 
heart  was  like  a  lucifer  match,  to  go  off  at  a  touch. 
No,  I  didn't,"  springing  up  from  his  chair,  lassoing 
himself  by  the  neck,  and  sitting  down  again  with  an 
effort. 

Mr.  Kirke  had  taken  up  a  volume  of  Browning's 
poems,  and,  at  Miss  Searle's  request,  was  reading 
aloud  "  Evelyn  Hope." 

"  He  always  did  have  a  trick  of  reading  poetry  well. 
I  read  poetry  aloud  to  them  once  myself  last  summer, 
but  I  suppose  I  clipped  it  off  too  quick.  Anyway,  I 
noticed  they  never  asked  me  to  do  it  again." 

Mr.  Kirke  looked  over  the  volume  as  he  finished, 
saying  it  was  as  good  as  a  symposium  to  read  a  book 


DRONES'  HONEY.  99 

so  full  of  little  pencil  jottings.  He  wondered  who  had 
marked  this  volume.  Evelyn  pleaded  guilty.  Theo- 
date  cared  little  for  Browning,  she  said,  except  a  few 
favorite  poems ;  had  no  patience  with  his  obscurity 
and  affectation.  Mr.  Kirke  defended  him  warmly, 
seconded  by  Evelyn. 

"  Their  tastes  agree.  I  might  have  known  they 
would,"  thought  Joe,  his  faint  heart  sinking  still 
lower.  "  I  remember  last  summer  I  used  to  think  of 
it  sometimes  when  she  was  talking,  that  this  or  that 
sounded  like  Ben  Kirke  ;  and  somehow  I  never  wanted 
them  to  meet.  It's  monstrous !  Luck  always  fol 
lowed  Kirke  ;  but,  as  for  me,  I'm  Fate's  football,"  with 
a  half-audible  groan. 

Joe  Fiske  was  among  friends  that  evening,  or  his 
absurd  conduct  would  have  exposed  him  to  ridicule. 
Usually  a  gay,  social  fellow,  "enchanting"  as  Miss 
Wilder  had  described  him,  he  behaved  to-night  like  an 
intermittent  lunatic,  sitting  in  sulky  silence  glowering 
upon  Mr.  Kirke,  then  suddenly  springing  up  and  pacing 
the  floor  with  muttered  exclamations.  Miss  Wilder, 
with  her  remarkable  self-control,  could  treat  him  ex 
actly  as  if  nothing  had  happened ;  but  Evelyn  was  so 
manifestly  unhappy,  that  Mr.  Kirke  could  not  endure  it 
long,  and  hastened  to  take  his  leave,  doubting  whether 
Joe  would  be  rational  enough  to  do  the  same.  But  the 
boy  sprang  out  of  his  chair  eagerly,  and  followed  him. 

"  Here's  farewell  to  the  girl  who  prefers  a  drone  to 
a  working-bee,"  he  muttered  between  his  teeth,  as 
they  got  outside.  "Farewell  to  the  girl  that's  all 
sweetness  to  a  stranger,  and  bitter  as  death  to  the  man 
that  loves  her." 


100  DRONES'  HONEY. 

"  Now,  wait  a  minute.  Joe.  Aren't  you  a  little 
wild?  Haven't  had  any  wine,  have  you?  " 

"  Wine?  No  ;  but  I'll  have  it  or  brand}'.  Do  they 
keep  liquors  at  the  Druid?  " 

Mr.  Kirke  had  him  by  the  arm  now,  and,  though  Joe 
faintly  resisted,  was  marching  him  steadily  down  the 
gravel  path.  * 

"There's  a  breeze  coming  up,  Joe.  'Twill  be  a 
good  night  to  sleep.  Hope  you'll  sleep  off  your 
headache." 

"  Headache?  Who  said  I  had  a  headache?  A  good 
night  to  sleep  !  That's  just  like  your  laziness." 

Mr.  Kirke  offered  no  further  remark,  rather  relieved 
than  otherwise  that  Joe  consented  to  go  with  him. 
Let  the  lad  say  or  do  what  he  might,  he  was  still  Art 
Flske's  brother,  and  as  such  should  be  treated  with 
forbearance,  and,  if  possible,  brought  to  his  senses. 

"You  know  what  ails  me,  Ben:  so  no  more  of 
your  confounded  nonsense.  You  know  I  love  her, 
and  you're  trying  to  step  between  us." 

"Ah!  To  which  lady  are  you  referring?  Please 
specify." 

"  That's  more  than  I'll  stand,  sir.  As  if  you  didn't 
know  !  Didn't  you  sit  there,  and  go  through  me  with 
your  eyes?  You  saw  me  making  a  fool  of  myself, 
and  enjoyed  it.  And  now  you  ask  me  which  one,  as 
if  Evelyn  Searle  had  her  peer  on  earth  !  " 

"A  fine  girl  she  is,  truly,"  returned  Mr.  Kirke. 
"  So  there's  an  attachment  between  you.  Well,  don't 
rave  at  me  any  longer,  Joe.  I  haven't  hurt  your 
cause,  and  wouldn't  try  to  do  it.  But,  if  you  say  so, 
I'll  take  myself  out  of  the  way  to-morrow." 


DRONES'  HONEY.  IOI 

The  imperturbable  good-nature  of  the  tone,  utterly 
free  from  any  implied  sarcasm,  had  its  effect  upon 
Joe. 

"Oh,  don't  hurry  away  on  my  account!  I'm  per 
fectly  reasonable,  Ben,  perfectly  reasonable.  I  admit 
you're  not  to  blame,  for  you  didn't  know  there  was 
such  a  girl  till  you  came  blundering  along  into  my 
territory.  It's  just  your  luck,  and  it's  just  my  luck, 
that's  all." 

"But  what  have  I  done?  You'll  feel  very  differ 
ently  about  this  to-morrow  morning,  Joe.  Did  you 
sleep  last  night  ?  ' ' 

"Sleep?  There  it  is  again.  I  don't  spend  my 
life  with  my  eyes  shut.  No,  I  didn't  sleep,  and  sha'n't 
to-night.  What  right  have  you  to  be  on  such  terms 
with  those  girls?" 

"There,  that  will  do.  I  solemnly  assure  you,  Joe, 
I  am  not  at  all  in  love  with  Miss  Evelyn  Searle. 
And  suppose  I  were,  if  she  ever  cared  for  you,  she 
wouldn't  throw  you  over  for  me,  or  any  other  man.1"' 

"  I  didn't  say  she  cared  for  me,  exactly  ;  that  is,  she 
never  gave  me  her  word,  or  an^y  thing  so  far  as  that," 
stammered  Joe.  "  But  the  field  was  mine.  I  know 
her  Boston  friends,  and  all — and —  Well,  •  I  had 
reason  —  Yes,  in  fact,  the  field  was  mine.  I  make 
no  charges  against  you,  Ben,  and  I  know  the  thought 
never  entered  her  mind  ;  but  it's  a  mighty  hard  case 
for  me,  your  coming  up  here  into  my  territory.  And 
you  so  tremendously  cool  about  it,  too  !  " 


102  DRONES'  HONEY. 


IX. 

"Passion,  as  frequently  is  seen, 
Subsiding,  settles  into  spleen." 


GREEN. 


MR.  FISKE  must  have  enjoyed  the  pangs  of 
renunciation,  for  he  prolonged  them  by  linger 
ing  day  after  day  at  Narransauc.  He  made  the  fourth 
in  the  carryall  party  to  Oak  Hill,  Ozro  following  on 
horseback. 

Miss  Wilder  left  a  study  of  lilies  fading  in  water, 
Miss  Searle  a  stud}-  of  lovers  pining  in  her  portfolio,  — 
lovers  were  trying  factors  in  her  stories,  as  she  never 
knew  how  much  they  ought  to  suffer,  —  and  both  3'oung 
ladies  entered  the  carryall  at  two  o'clock  of  the  sultry 
afternoon,  with  that  air  of  feminine  resignation  which 
would  cut  a  man  to  the  heart  if  he  knew  how  to  inter 
pret  it,  which  happily  he  never  does. 

Mr.  Kirke  drove  the  motley  span  ;  Mr.  Fiske  choos 
ing  the  back  seat  beside  Miss  Wilder,  where  he  could 
torture  himself  by  watching  Miss  Searle  and  his  rival. 
Tom  followed  at  a  respectful  distance,  with  the  "  ma 
chine,"  and  the  materials  for  lemonade  ;  laughing  in 
his  sleeve  at  this  t;  photo  business,"  which  was  the  one 
"•  loony  streak  "  in  the  otherwise  sensible  fellow  from 
Chicago. 

Ozro  had  his  own  views  regarding  lunacy,  and  kept 
close  to  the  carryall,  that  he  might  lose  not  a  word  or 


DRONES'  HONEY.  103 

a  look  of  Mr.  Fiske.  Joe  was  absurd  enough,  at  the 
best ;  it  was  well  that  no  one  suspected  him  of  this 
dawning  jealousy  of  Mr.  Kirke,  who,  for  his  part,  was 
merely  amused  by  it,  and  talked  unrestrainedly  with 
Miss  Searle,  though  he  knew  poor  Joe  was  listening  in 
torture  to  every  word. 

Oak  Hill  was  somewhat  remote  from  the  highway ; 
and  on  reaching  the  spot,  a  hilly  old  orchard,  Tom  let 
down  the  bars,  and  they  all  walked  in  and  upward  over 
the  soft  grass  to  the  sugar-loaf  summit,  where  they 
seemed  to  stand  in  the  very  centre  of  a  circular  green 
world. 

"  What  have  I  told  you?  "  said  Miss  Wilder  trium 
phantly  to  Mr.  Kirke.  "  Look  there  and  there," 
pointing  to  the  distant  mountains  and  ponds  and  the 
white  outlying  villages. 

Mr.  Kirke  looked  to  order.  He  had  a  real  apprecia 
tion  of  the  beautiful  in  nature,  which  was  refreshing 
to  Miss  Wilder's  soul ;  and  she  liked  to  stand  with  him 
and  Miss  Searle  in  reverential  silence,  thinking  thoughts 
unutterable.  But  Mr,  Fiske  was  continually  asserting 
himself,  and  dispelling  the  charm. 

"  How  I  admired  this  last  summer !  "  said  he  with  a 
deep-drawn  sigh.  "We  were  here  twice, — do  }'ou 
remember  it,  Miss  Searle?  —  once  in  a  shower." 

Oh,  yes,  she  remembered,  but  not  with  the  enthusi 
asm  he  could  have  desired.  She  was  more  interested 
in  seeing  Mr.  Kirke  set  up  his  camera  than  in  listening 
to  reminiscences. 

"  Going  to  take  a  picture,  Ben?  Well,  that  is  really 
too  droll,"  said  poor  Joe,  welcoming  the  opportunity 
to  find  fault.  Why  was  the  camera  set  in  this  spot 


104  DRONES'  HONEY. 

instead  of  that?  What  was  the  particular  object  in 
being  so  slow?  No  wonder  the  pictures  turned  out 
ink-blots.  What  else  could  you  expect  with  no  pre 
tension  to  a  knowledge  of  the  art?  And,  in  all  mod 
esty,  he  must  say  he  thought  he  could  do  better  himself. 

"Very  well,"  said  Mr.  Kirke,  "suppose  you  try. 
This  is  my  sixth  and  last,"  slipping  a  photograph 
plate  into  its  receptacle,  and  seating  himself  comfort 
ably  upon  the  grass. 

Joe  accepted  the  challenge  eagerly.  "  Oh,  yes,  I 
know  how  it  goes !  Just  let  me  alone,  Ben.  Don't 
need  any  help,  thank  3-011 ;  "  and  to  work  he  went  with 
blind  zeal  upon  the  very  foolish  undertaking,  while  the 
rest  of  the  party  retreated  to  the  shade  of  the  largest 
apple-tree,  relieved  at  having  him  off  their  hands  for  a 
while.  They  could  see  him  moving  restlessly  to  and 
fro,  and  hear  the  sharp  sound  of  the  plates  as  he  shot 
them  impatiently  into  the  camera.  Did  he  really  ex 
pect  to  outshine  stupid  Ben  at  a  moment's  notice? 

"  He  has  an  enormous  fund  of  surplus  energy ; 
I'm  glad  he  has  found  something  to  do,"  said  Miss 
Searle,  looking  demurely  at  nobody,  while  she  plucked 
up  a  handful  of  daisies  by  the  roots. 

Ozro  fell  to  laughing  immoderately,  and  wished  it 
understood  that  he  saw  something  extremely  droll  in 
the  corn-field  across  the  fence.  The  secret  amusement 
they  all  felt  in  common  may  have  added  something  to 
their  sense  of  good-fellowship  ;  for  they  seemed  to  get 
on  wonderfully  well  together,  the  four  souls  under  the 
apple-trees  :  and  Joe  looked  around  occasionally,  like  a 
sharp-eyed  little  pedagogue,  to  see  what  they  were  all 
laughing  at,  — Ozro  toppling  over  like  a  card-house  ; 


DRONES'  HONEY.  105 

Miss  "Wilder  shaking  in  a  sort  of  ague  of  fun  ;  Miss 
Searle  swaying  like  a  flower  in  a  breeze,  —  like  a  musical 
flower,  if  such  a  thing  is  imaginable.  It  was  charac 
teristic  of  Evelyn,  this  quick  response  of  her  light  fig 
ure  to  the  motions  of  her  mind,  almost  as  if  her  body 
thought ;  and  Mr.  Kirke  found  it  charming. 

He  had  always  liked  to  be  of  use  to  her  ever  since  her 
uncle  had  told  him  of  her  excessive  grief  for  her  mother. 
He  thought  he  could  partially  understand  the  feeling, 
for  his  own  mother  was  the  most  precious  being  to  him 
upon  earth ;  and  the  anguish  he  had  suffered  the  pre 
vious  winter,  while  she  1'ay  hovering  between  life  and 
death,  was  an  experience  never  to  be  forgotten  or  de 
scribed.  She  had  been  spared  to  him,  thank  Heaven  ; 
but  his  dread  glance  into  the  abyss  of  desolation  had 
given  him  forevermore  a  keen  sj'mpathy  with  that  par 
ticular  phase  of  sorrow.  Miss  Searle  had  a  happy 
nature :  but  there  was  a  pathetic  look  in  her  eyes  some 
times  which  went  straight  to  his  heart,  and  nerved  him 
to  try  all  his  powers  to  dispel  it ;  and  in  one  way  or 
another  he  usually  succeeded. 

It  was  very  much  the  same  with  Miss  Wilder,  who  had 
an  unacknowledged  tendenc}'  to  blues.  He  could  cheer 
her  with  very  little  effort,  and  light  a  merry  fire  in  her 
gloomy  dark  eyes.  This  easy  influence  over  two  such 
minds  was  a  triumph,  it  must  be  confessed,  to  the  young 
man's  vanity.  What  was  it  in  both  these  young  ladies 
which  made  him  so  entirely  at  home  in  their  society, 
while,  at  the  same  time,  they  called  forth  the  very  best 
he  had  to  give  ?  He  thought  of  it  to-day  as  he  strode 
about,  with  his  arms  behind  him,  spinning  jests  and 
stories. 


106  DRONES'  HONEY. 

He  had  always  known  it  was  rather  ungracious  in 
him,  but  really  he  had  never  cared  to  exert  himself 
much  for  his  lady  friends  at  home ;  and,  in  fact,  there 
had  been  little  need,  for  the  sou  of  rich  Judge  Kirke 
was  foreordained  to  please.  But  here  it  was  different : 
here  he  was  taken  solely  on  his  own  merits ;  and  there 
is  always  a  stimulus  in  having  a  new  audience  before 
you,  a  new  reputation  to  make. 

Naturally  Joe  could  not  stand  this  sort  of  thing 
long.  "What  are  you  all  laughing  at  over  there?" 
said  he ;  and,  throwing  up  his  attempts  at  art  as  a  bad 
bargain,  he  came  to  join  the  merry  circle.  "It's  the 
first  time,  Ben,  that  I  ever  suspected  you  of  being  a 
wit." 

"  How  many  pictures  have  you  taken,  Joe?  " 

"  Six,  the  same  that  you  did  ;  and,  if  they  prove  as 
bad  as  yours,  I'll  flee  my  countiy,"  said  the  despairing 
lover  courteously,  and  then  sank  on  a  sod  at  Miss 
Searle's  feet  with  such  a  woe-begone  look  that  Ozro 
felt  obliged  to  brace  himself  against  the  nearest  tree. 

"  Miss  Searle,  I  never  shall  forget  the  terrific  thun 
der-shower  that  came  up  when  we  were  out  here  last 
summer,  and  how  we  took  shelter  in  that  hermit's  hut. 
—  For  that  was  the  day  when  I  could  have  sworn  she 
was  in  love  with  me,"  went  on  Joe  to  himself.  "  Yet 
now,  I  presume,  all  she  was  thinking  about  was  how 
to  keep  the  rain  off  her  bonnet." 

"A  hermit!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Kirke.  "Do  you 
own  a  curiosity  like  that,  and  have  never  told  me?  " 

"Do  you  expect  an  inventory  of  the  town  to  be 
given  you  at  a  fortnight's  notice?"  retorted  Joe; 
then,  softening  a  little,  "  If  he  is  on  exhibition  still, 


DRONES'  HONEY.  IO/ 

perhaps  we  could  go  home  by  the  cross-road  and  in 
terview  him  ;  that  is,  if  the  ladies  say  so." 

"  It  is  a  vote,"  cried  Ozro,  before  the  ladies  could 
reply. 

"Very  well,  and  isn't  it  time  to  start  now?"  said 
Miss  Wilder,  rising  regretfully  from  the  grassy  throne 
from  which  she  had  been  overlooking  the  peaceful 
world  below. 

As  they  entered  the  carryall,  Miss  Searle  remarked 
to  Mr.  Kirke,  with  what  Joe  considered  undue  defer- 
erence,  "  I'm  sure  you'll  say  Mr.  Vose  is  a  genuine 
hermit.  At  any  rate,  he  is  sufficiently  exclusive." 

"  '  He  that  is  exclusive  excludes  himself,'  "  quoted 
Joe. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  him?  What  made  him 
retire  from  the  world?  "  asked  Mr.  Kirke.  "I  think 
it's  interesting  to  know  the  reasons  ;  don't  3*ou?  " 

"The  reason  was  —  a  woman,"  said  Ozro,  bending 
forward  and  making  a  grimace  toward  the  carryall. 
"  The  other  man  was  rich,  you  know." 

"  I'll  warrant  it,"  muttered  Joe  in  an  injured  tone, 
which  nobody  fairly  understood  or  cared  to  inter 
pret. 

"  I  believe  there  was  once  a  pretty  girl  named 
Betsey  Crane,"  said  Miss  Searle,  "and  it  is  conven 
ient  to  say  that  she  broke  his  heart.  But  I  dare  say 
the  stor}'  is  largely  traditional.  At  any  rate,  he  was 
never  heard  to  complain  of  Betsey ;  and  the  nearest 
approach  he  ever  made  to  confiding  in  any  one  was  to 
say  to  my  grandfather  once,  in  a  tragic  tone,  '  Mis 
fortune  has  smiled  on  me,  Mr.  Searle.' ' 

"  I  am  glad  misfortune  can  smile,"  said  Miss  Wilder, 


IOS  DROA'ES'  HONEY. 

"  but  it  must  be  over  the  left  shoulder,  —  a  cold,  cruel, 
crooked  smile." 

"  I  have  a  growing  interest  in  your  hermit,  Miss 
Searle.  He  certainly  commands  one's  respect  by  not 
wearing  his  heart  on  his  sleeve,"  said  Mr.  Kirke 
quietly. 

"Good,"  thought  Ozro,  ready  to  shout;  "a  capi 
tal  hit.  Kirke  knows  how  to  do  it.  Well,  he  is  the 
coolest  fellow." 

They  were  approaching  now  a  dreary  stretch  of 
sand,  the  only  blot  on  all  the  fair  green  landscape. 

"  Vassal  Vose's  estate,"  said  Miss  Searle  with  a 
light  wave  of  the  hand.  "It  is  said  there  was  hardly 
a  peck  of  sand  here  when  he  came ;  but  it  has  been 
blowing  broadcast  from  3-ear  to  year,  and  he  has  taken 
real  satisfaction  in  watching  the  spread  of  it.  A  desert 
is  more  to  his  taste  than  a  garden  of  spices." 

"•  I  feel  quite  oppressed,"  said  Miss  Wilder.  "  Isn't 
it  fearful  to  think  how  the  fairest,  most  exquisite  facul 
ties  of  the  human  mind  are  capable  of  perversion?  " 

"Well,"  exclaimed  Joe  with  a  black  look,  "}-ou 
needn't  tell  me  a  man  that  has  been  fairly  treated 
would  get  in  such  a  condition.  It  stands  to  reason 
that  somebody  is  to  blame  for  it." 

In  the  midst  of  this  forlorn  waste,  in  the  shelter  of 
a  rock,  stood  a  tiny  hut  of  pine  logs,  fitted  together 
with  toggles  and  pins,  and  filled  at  every  crevice  with 
cluster  moss. 

"  He  built  it  himself,"  explained  Miss  Searle. 
"  See,  there  are  shutters  to  ever}'  window,  and  all 
closed.  He  will  not  have  even  the  honest  sun  peep  at 
him.  Ah,  here  he  is  now!  Look,  Mr.  Kirke." 


DRONES'  HONEY.  1 09 

"Can't  she  ask  me  to  look,  too?"  thought  the 
spoiled  child  on  the  back  seat. 

A  crooked  man,  coatless  and  hatless,  was  crossing 
the  road  before  them,  swinging  a  stick  in  his  hand. 

"  As  the  old  woman  said  of  the  hippopotamus, 
k  Ain't  he  plain?  '  "  sakl  Ozro. 

His  straggling,  unkempt  hair  resembled  the  fine  fur 
of  some  wild  animal ;  his  body  was  bent  like  a  siphon  ; 
and  he  looked  down  at  the  ground,  as  if  scorning  to 
notice  the  approach  of  such  a  paltry  thing  as  a  car 
riage-load  of  human  beings. 

"How  d'ye,  Vassal?"  called  out  Ozro;  but  his 
words  fell  upon  empty  space.  The  strange  being  pur 
sued  his  way  in  silence  to  an  iron  teakettle  boiling  over 
a  little  fire  on  a  heap  of  stones,  where  he  halted,  and 
held  one  end  of  his  stick,  a  white  ashen  one,  carefully 
over  the  steam  of  the  kettle. 

"  Hullo,  Vassal ;  how's  the  polo  business?  Is  that 
a  good  polo  stick?"  The  hermit  wagged  his  head 
slowl}*,  miserly  of  his  words  as  of  every  thing  else. 
But  Ozro  meant  that  Mr.  Kirke  should  hear  his  voice, 
which  he  had  told  him  sounded  more  like  the  clink  of 
small  change  than  like  any  thing  human. 

"  Look  here,  Vassal,  they  do  say  your  polo  sticks 
beat  the  world.  Now,  what' 11  you  take  for  that 
one?" 

The  grim  mouth  opened,  and  a  metallic  sound  issued. 

"  Fo'pence  ha'penny,"  he  replied,  surprised  into 
speech. 

"  Good  gracious,  what  a  price  !  "  shrieked  the  mis 
chievous  Ozro,  touching  whip  to  his  pony  and  bound 
ing  off  without  the  least  warning ;  leaving  the  old  man 


1 10  DRONES'  HONEY. 

glaring  after  him,  his  hitherto  blank  features  working 
with  rage  and  amazement. 

"  I'll  buy  it,  and  two  more,  if  3-011  have  them  to  sell," 
said  Mr.  Kirke,  who  found  no  pleasure  in  cheating  the 
poor  wreck  of  humanity  out  of  a  compound  word,  and 
disappointing  him  in  a  trade. 

The  bargain  was  concluded,  and  the  carryall  drove 
on,  leaving  poor  Vassal  muttering  his  delight  over  such 
unprecedented  luck. 

"  Just  like  Ben.  I  wish  I  had  thought  to  do  it  my 
self  ;  such  little  things  go  so  far  with  the  women," 
mused  Joe. 

"Mr.  Vose's  troubles  haven't  seemed  to  sanctify 
him,"  said  he  aloud. 

"  No,"  returned  Miss  Wilder.  "  One  would  sup 
pose  his  remarkable  constancy  to  Betsey  might  have 
left  a  shade  of  softness  on  his  visage,  but  unfortu 
nately  it  has  not." 

"  Which  gives  us  food  for  thought,"  said  Mr.  Kirke. 
"  Haven't  our  poets  something  to  answer  for  in  that 
regard?  They  rave  continually  about  constancy,  yet 
here  we  see  for  ourselves  what  an  utterly  silly  and 
ridiculous  thing  it  is  in  real  life."  He  spoke  medita 
tively,  as  of  love-stricken  swains  in  general ;  but  Joe 
felt  the  application,  and  stirred  uneasily. 

"Constancy,  clo  3-011  call  it?  I  call  it  obstinacy," 
exclaimed  Miss  Wilder,  furtively  pinning  up  her  back 
hair. 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Kirke,  "obstinacy  is  the  better 
word.  No  man  of  common-sense  would  wreck  his  life 
for  a  woman  who  doesn't  care  a  pin  whether  he's  alive 
or  dead." 


DRONES'  HONEY.  Ill 

Joe  thrust  his  head  abruptly  out  of  the  window. 
"  Look  at  that  superb  mountain  chain." 

"  But,"  went  on  Mr.  Kirke  in  a  lower  tone,  so  low 
that  Joe  could  not  catch  the  words,  "  but  our  friend 
the  hermit  was  a  mere  boy,  was  he  not,  when  it  hap 
pened  ?  He  must  have  been  very  young,  or  he  would 
have  known  '  there  was  more  in  him  than  could  be  killed 
by  such  a  thing  as  that.' ' 

Miss  Searle  turned  quickly.  It  was  a  saucy  venture 
in  Mr.  Kirke  to  make  this  quotation  from  her  own  let 
ter,  but  she  did  not  recognize  it;  she  only  wondered 
vaguely  where  she  had  heard  those  words  before. 

"  And  he  was  not  killed,"  said  she,  laughing  ;  "  his 
heart  is  only  shut  up  in  his  crooked  body,  like  a  white 
bear  taking  a  winter  nap." 

"•True,"  said  Miss  Wilder;  "and,  for  my  part,  I 
believe  his  cold  heart  would  have  gone  to  sleep  all  the 
same  if  he  had  married  Miss  Betsey,  or  indeed  if  she 
had  never  been  born." 

"But  wasn't  she  a  fortunate  woman?"  said  Mr. 
Kirke.  "  I'd  like  to  congratulate  her  on  her  happy 
escape." 

"  If  such  are  your  sentiments,"  cried  Ozro,  galloping 
back  to  meet  the  carriage,  "  if  such  are  your  real  sen 
timents,  just  stop  at  our  house,  and  we'll  all  drink  to 
Miss  Betsey's  health  in  a  glass  of  raspberry  shrub." 

Accordingly,  when  they  reached  Mr.  Searle's,  they 
halted  at  the  gate,  and  were  merrily  touching  glasses 
with  a  "  three  times  three  to  the  fickle  Miss  Betsey," 
when  the  ubiquitous  Mr.  Crabtree  came  leaping  across 
the  stile  of  a  neighboring  field,  exclaiming,  "  Well, 
well,  how  do  you  do,  Mr.  Fiske,  and  how  do  you 


112  DRONES'  HONEY. 

do  again?  I  heard  you  was  here.  Come  to  stop 
long?" 

Mr.  Fiske  aroused  himself,  and  shook  hands  cor 
dially.  He  knew  his  last  summer's  reputation  for 
gayety  and  affability,  and  it  would  never  do  to  let  Mr. 
Crabtree  go  off  and  tell  the  gossips  how  he  had 
changed. 

"  Oh,  I  came  up  for  a  peep  at  you  all,  and  to  get 
Kirke  home  !  "  said  he  jovially.  "  Too  dissipated  here 
for  Kirke  ;  he's  grown  wild." 

Mr.  Crabtree  looked  keenly  at  Mr.  Kirke  and 
Evelyn,  who  seemed  quite  at  home  together,  he  fancied, 
on  the  front  scat.  "•  I  see,  I  see.  1  didn't  mistrust, 
when  I  met  him  the  other  day  in  the  cars,  that  he  was 
going  to  kind  o'  settle  down  here  like  one  of  our  own 
folks." 

"  Neither  did  I,"  laughed  Mr.  Kirke. 

Miss  Searle  said  nothing ;  but  there  was  a  reserved 
sweetness  in  her  smile,  Mr.  Fiske  thought,  which  caused 
him  to  glower  unconsciously  upon  Ben,  and  justified 
the  shrewd  Mr.  Crabtree  in  telling  his  wife  at  tea-time 
that  "  something  was  up  with  that  little  whipper-snapper 
of  a  Joe  Fiske.  He  looked  as  if  he'd  got  his  death- 
warrant  ;  and  Evelyn  was  at  the  bottom  of  it,  of  course, 
though  he  never  had  thought  she  was  one  of  that  kind." 


DRONES'  HONEY.  113 


X. 


"  What  is  'will  for,  if  it  cannot  help  vs  in  emergencies  ?" 

EMERSON. 

"  "TTTTIEN  are  you  going  home,  old  man?"  Mr. 
V  V  Fiske  considered  himself  in  a  state  of  u  quali 
fied  war"  with  Mr.  Kirke,  but  was  as  communicative 
as  ever,  and  had  just  accepted  an  invitation  to  ride 
with  him  into  the  country. 

"Joe,  what  do  you  mean?"  said  Mr.  Kirke,  taking 
up  the  reins,  and  looking  him  steadily  in  the  eye. 

There  was  a  latent  force  in  Ben  that  now  and 
then  asserted  itself  in  a  glnnce  or  a  tone,  causing  the 
younger  man  to  quail  for  a  moment.  "  I  thought  this 
thing  was  settled  once  for  all  between  us,  Joe.  Didn't 
you  say  yesterday  you  gave  it  up,  and  didn't  care  a 
rush  how  I  disposed  of  myself?  " 

"  Well,  and  I  don't.  You  may  see  her  every  hour 
in  the  day,  for  all  me  ;  but  what's  that  to  do  with  your 
answering  a  civil  question?  " 

"  Oh,  well,  as  to  going  home,  let  us  see  !  I  haven't 
fairly  thought  it  out  yet.  Where's  the  hurry?  " 

"I  should  think  Randall  might  have  a  word  to  say 
about  that,"  was  the  retort;  "and  he  would,  if  he 
wasn't  such  a  willing  ox.  You've  heard  of  the  ox  in 
the  yoke  that  was  willing  to  pull,  and  the  other  ox  was 
willing  he  should?  " 

Ben's  brow  darkened  .for  a  second ;  but,  reflecting 


114  DRONES'  HONEY. 

that  it  was  hardly  worth  while  to  take  offence,  he 
prudently  remained  silent. 

"  I  asked  your  plans,  Kirke,  because,  if  you  think  of 
going  soon,  I  may  as  well  wait,  and  go  with  you." 

There  was  a  pause  while  Mr.  Kirke  flicked  a  fly  off 
the  horse  with  the  whip-lash,  and  Joe  looked  at  him 
sharply.  It  was  a  clever  face,  and  a  strong  one,  with 
a  dash  of  sarcasm  about  the  mouth,  —  or  so  Joe  read  it, 
—  and  a  pair  of  hazel  eyes  that  expressed  as  much  or  as 
little  as  their  owner  pleased.  Just  now  they  expressed 
nothing  whatever  to  Joe's  scrutiny,  wearing  the  shut- 
in  look  suggestive  to  Ben's  sisters  of  "drawing  the 
blinds." 

"I  suppose  Chicago  will  be  there  right  along,"  said 
Mr.  Kirke  at  last ;  "  and,  in  case  the  willing  ox  doesn't 
object,  I  believe  I'll  finish  out  the  summer  here." 

Joe  sank  back  overpowered.  "  Settle  down  here 
for  good,  Kirke.  Don't  regard  my  feelings.  What 
am  I  ?  If  I  should  die  to-morrow,  you'd  sleep  just  as 
well  for  it." 

"Joe,  is  it  of  the  least  use  to  ask  you  to  be 
reasonable?" 

"Reasonable?  I  think  myself  I'm  pretty  tremen 
dously  reasonable,  considering  you've  ruined  my  pros 
pects  for  life." 

"Take  care,  sir." 

"Oh,  your  not  knowing  it  makes  no  difference! 
You're  weaving  a  spell  all  the  same.  I  tell  you,  Ben, 
if  3-011  cared  two  straws  about  the  girl,  I  could  bear  it. 
But  to  see  you  simply  sit  still  in  that  everlastingly  lazy 
way  of  yours,  and  let  her  grow  into  liking  you  !  " 

"  Nonsense  !  "  returned  Ben,  a  sudden  light  leaping 


DRONES'  HONEY.  115 

into  his  eyes,  which  it  was  as  well  Joe  did  not  see. 
''There's  not  a  particle  of  truth  in  what  you  say. 
You've  placed  me  in  a  ridiculous  light  before  her  when 
ever  you  could." 

Joe  cowered  a  little. 

"  What  did  you  talk  about  last  night  up  there?  Do 
you  suppose  a  man  wants  all  his  college  nonsense  raked 
over  before  ladies?  I  tell  you,  Joe,  if  I  considered 
you  in  a  sane  state  of  mind,  I'd  give  you  the  soundest 
thumping  you  ever  had  in  your  life." 

"  Well,  now,  look  here,  old  man,  what  sent  you  up 
here  in  the  first  place?  If  you'd  only  staid  away,  I 
should  have  won  her.  But  you've  stepped  between 
us;  and  now,  God  pity  me,  my  chance  is  over!" 

This  outburst  of  unreason  moved  Mr.  Kirke  in  divers 
ways,  —  to  box  the  boy's  ears,  to  laugh  at  him,  to  throw 
an  arm  around  him  and  let  him  cry  on  his  shoulder. 
A  silly  fellow,  surely,  was  Jos.  He  had  declared  re 
peatedly,  that,  if  it  wasn't  for  his  mother,  he  wouldn't 
hesitate  to  blow  out  his  brains.  But  he  had  reached 
the  point  now,  —  so  he  went  on  to  declare,  —  when  his 
mother  no  longer  stood  in  the  way  ;  and  the  pistol  should 
do  its  deadly  work  —  to-morrow  or  the  day  after. 

It  was  hard  to  have  patience  with  him,  or  treat  his 
woes  seriously. 

"  If  I'm  ever  such  a  fool  as  to  fall  in  love  where 
there's  no  hope  for  me,  I  won't  howl  over  it,"  thought 
the  comfortable,  well-cared  for,  unsentimental  Ben 
Kirke,  as  contempt  got  the  better  of  pity. 

Still,  though  he  was  so  sure  that  this  meant  nothing 
serious  in  Joe's  case,  and  would  soon  blow  over,  his 
conscience  was  not  altogether  easy.  He  had  not  been 


Il6  DRONES'  HONEY. 

quite  frank  with  the  lad  to  whom  he  really  owed  his 
acquaintance  with  Evelyn  Searle.  He  had  never  told 
him,  —  how  could  he?  —  of  the  intercepted  letter,  and 
the  influence  it  had  had  in  bringing  him  to  Narransauc. 
His  coming  had  not  hurt  Joe's  cause,  for  Joe  never 
had  a  cause ;  but  no  doubt  it  had  had  its  effect  in 
making  the  boy  behave  a  great  deal  worse  than  he 
would  otherwise  have  done,  by  exciting  his  jealousy, 
which  was  always  his  weak  point.  And,  after  all,  he 
was  Art's  brother  ;  and  had  it  been  fair? 

Mr.  Kirke  had  no  faith  in  Joo's  leaving  Narransauc 
at  present,  nor  had  Joe  himself  much  faith  in  it.  He 
pretended  to  be  fully  decided,  but  changed  his  mind 
secretly  a  dozen  times ;  and  though  he  went  so  far 
next  morning  as  to  pack  his  portmanteau,  and  ride  over 
to  the  station  with  his  friend,  he  was  still  in  a  turmoil 
of  doubt. 

"  That  cold-blooded  Kirke  !  If  he  would  only  show 
some  sign  that  he's  glad  to  be  rid  of  me,  there 'd  be 
some  sense  in  going." 

The  train  was  made  up,  the  few  passengers  had  all 
entered  the  car. 

"Good-by,  old  fellow.  See  you  again,"  said  Joe, 
planting  one  foot  on  the  step,  with  a  swinging  motion. 

"  Well,  good-by,  Fiske." 

"  Wait  a  minute,"  cried  Joe,  swinging  himself  down 
again.  "I  —  I  believe  I'll  give  it  up,  after  all." 

"  Very  well,  why  not?"  returned  Mr.  Kirke  civilly. 

If  he  had  betrayed  the  slightest  anno}*ance,  Mr. 
Fiske  would  have  staid;  but  the  indifference  settled 
it.  Joe  caught  at  the  railing  as  the  car  began  to  move 
off,  and  at  some  risk  succeeded  in  boarding  the  train. 


DRONES'  HONEY.  117 

Mr.  Kirke  laughed:  who  could  have  helped  it?  The 
bystanders  laughed  too.  They  had  been  watching 
the  very  nimble  young  man's  gyrations  for  some  time 
with  interest ;  and  one  beholder  now  said  to  another,  — 

"  An  uneasy  fish,  but  he  got  hauled  in  at  last." 

Mr.  Kirke  drove  back  to  the  Druid,  feeling  as  light 
as  a  feather.  It  would  be  in  order  to  call  at  Violet 
Hill  this  evening,  and  report  the  news,  which  he  knew 
would  be  thankfully  received. 

As  he  drove  across  the  bridge,  he  could  see  that 
something  unusual  was  going  on  at  the  Druid.  A  dozen 
neighbors  —  men,  women,  and  children  —  were  hurry 
ing  in  and  out  of  the  house ;  and  presently  the  land 
lord  rushed  bareheaded  into  the  middle  of  the  street, 
exclaiming,  "  Hello,  there,  Kirke,  you'll  have  to  hitch 
your  own  horse  :  Tom  is  done  for.  Hitch  your  horse, 
and  come  right  in  ;  Tom  is  in  a  fix." 

"  What  is  it?     Shall  I  go  for  the   doctor?  " 

"Doctor?"  repeated  an  energetic  old  lady  on  the 
piazza,  rolling  her  right  sleeve  up  to  the  elbow.  "  You 
can't  get  any  doctor  in  this  town,  not  if  you're  dead 
and  laid  out." 

"Father's  dead;  funeral  at  Saccarap,"  cried  an 
officious  little  bo}\ 

"Oh,  is  that  it  ?    Poor  Tom  ! ' ' 

"  No,  no ;  not  Tom's  father,  the  doctor's  father. 
Tom's  broke  his  leg,"  vociferated  Mr.  Simpson  at 
last,  his  face  nearly  plum-color  with  suppressed  speech. 

"  And  no  doctor  to  come  anigh,"  supplemented  the 
old  lady,  pulling  her  sleeve  down  again. 

"  I'll  tell  you  how  he  broke  his  leg,"  struck  in  the 
officious  little  boy.  "He  came  bump  up  against  that 


Il8  DRONES'  HONEY. 

photo-machine  o'  yours,  out  in  the  stable,  covered  up 
with  hay." 

Mr.  Kirke  was  more  noted  for  strength  than  speed  ; 
but  he  was  not  long  now  in  brushing  through  the  hin 
dering  crowd,  and  making  his  way  to  Tom,  who  lay  on 
the  wooden  settle  in  the  bar-room,  groaning  with  every 
breath,  and  protesting  that  he  would  not,  could  not, 
should  not,  be  moved  till  Dr.  Cargill  arrived,  who  had 
been  sent  for  from  St.  Gregory.  This  might  be  an 
hour  hence,  it  might  be  more ;  for  Mr.  Simpson  was 
afraid  the  horse's  loose  shoe  would  make  some  differ 
ence.  The  fleet  horse  Dick  had  been  in  use  by  Mr. 
Kirke,  and  they  had  taken  Jack  in  their  haste  ;  though 
Mrs.  Simpson  was  sure  now  that  time  would  have  been 
saved  if  they  had  gone  to  the  station  for  Dick.  This 
she  had  just  been  saying ;  and,  in  the  kindness  of  her 
heart,  Mrs.  Crabtree  had  added  that  she  didn't  believe 
Dr.  Cargill  was  at  home,  anyhow.  She  had  heard  of 
his  going  to  Prince  Edward's  Island  ;  and  why  hadn't 
somebody  thought  to  tell  Nathan,  the  messenger,  to  get 
Dr.  Pen-in?" 

"Why,  Dr.  Perrin  is  a  homoeopath:  he  can't  set 
bones,"  responded  another  woman,  equally  kind. 

These  remarks,  and  others  of  like  nature,  had  been 
passing  freely  around  the  circle,  no  doubt  to  Tom's 
edification.  But  his  knitted  brows  relaxed  a  little  now 
at  sight  of  Mr.  Kirke ;  and  he  inclined  his  head  toward 
him,  as  if  half  expecting  some  sort  of  aid  or  comfort 
from  the  stalwart  young  man,  who  had  the  look  of 
being  equal  to  any  emergency. 

''Courage,  Tom,  my  boy.  Mr.  Crabtree  and  I 
together  can  carry  you  up-stairs  to  vour  own  bed  so 


DRONES'  HONEY.  1 19 

easily  that  yon  won't  know  it.  We'll  handle  you  like 
a  glass  vase.  Won't  you  trust  us,  Tom?  " 

The  tone  was  re-assuring ;  and  there  was  a  certain 
masterful,  self-possessed  air  about  Mr.  Kirke  that  had 
always  had  a  strong  but  indescribable  influence  on 
Tom. 

"  Well,  I  guess  you  can  do  it,  seeing's  you  think 
you  call,"  sighed  he  trustfully,  and  closing  his  eyes 
resigned  himself  at  once  to  the  two  gentle-handed 
bearers,  who  made  the  journey  with  signal  success. 
As  they  neared  Tom's  chamber,  Mr.  Kirke  saw  that  it 
was  low,  small,  and  ill-furnished,  with  flies  pouring  in 
at  the  open  window  like  gossips  flocking  to  a  tea-party. 

"  Not  there  ;  we  can't  put  him  there,"  said  he  auda 
ciously  to  Mrs.  Simpson,  who  walked  in  advance  of  the 
litter.  "  ShoW  us  a  better  room,  larger,  with  window- 
screens  and  curtains." 

Mrs.  Simpson  seemed  amazed ;  but,  reflecting  that 
Mr.  Kirke  was  the  sort  of  man  to  pay  for  what  he 
called  for,  she  led  the  way  to  the  north  room,  which 
had  been  set  off  from  the  old  dancing-hall,  and,  though 
seldom  used,  was  really  the  most  comfortable  summer 
resort  the  house  afforded.  Tom,  in  his  soiled  working- 
suit,  his  feet  incased  in  dusty  boots,  was  extended 
upon  the  dainty  lavender-scented  bed ;  and  the  much- 
tried  Mrs.  Simpson  cast  an  eloquent  glance  upon  Mrs. 
Crabtree,  who  might  be  supposed,  as  a  woman  and  a 
housekeeper,  to  understand  her  feelings.  Then  fol 
lowed  a  remark  which  would  have  electrified  both 
ladies  if  they  had  heard  it. 

"May  I  examine  your  hurt,  my  boy?"  said  Mr. 
Kirke  in  a  low  tone,  leaning  over  the  patient.  "  Be- 


120  DRONES'  HONEY. 

cause,  if  it's  nothing  worse  than  a  broken  bone,  I  can 
set  it  myself." 

Tom  ceased  groaning  from  sheer  surprise.  "  I 
wouldn't  do  it  if  the  doctor  gets  here  in  good  time, 
3Tou  understand,  Tom,  or  if  you  can  wait  till  he  comes. 
I've  no  desire  to  take  the  business  out  of  his  hands." 

"I  know  enough  for  that;  j'ou're  fooling  with  me 
like,"  returned  Tom  coolly,  feeling  that  such  jests 
were  rather  ill-timed  ;  but  that  he  must  try  not  to  take 
offence,  considering  the  source. 

Mr.  Kirke  gave  his  grimy  hand  a  kindly  pressure. 
"I'm  not  fooling  with  you,  Tom.  I'd  be  ashamed  to 
do  it  after  you've  come  to  your  death  by  that  infernal 
'  machine '  of  mine.  But  you  needn't  think  I'm  a 
bungler  at  every  thing,  as  I  am  at  pictures.  I  can 
mend  this  little  breakage  of  yours,  and  make  you  as 
good  as  new  :  so  keep  up  your  heart,  my  boy." 

"Why  in  the  world  doesn't  Nathan  come?"  said 
Mrs.  Simpson  anxiously. 

"  Why,  here  he  is,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Crabtree,  from 
her  post  by  the  window  ;  "  but  he's  all  sole  alone.  I 
should  have  thought  he'd  have  brought  somebody,  if 
it  was  nothing  but  that  homy  path." 

Nathan,  being  interviewed,  defended  himself  stoutly. 
How  could  he  fetch  folks  that  weren't  there  to  be 
fetched?  The  doctors  were  all  gone  kiting,  and  of 
course  he  had  come  back  to  report  and  take  a  fresh 
start  for  Liter's  Falls.  What  else  could  he  do? 

"  How  long  am  I  going  to  lie  here  and  stand  this?  " 
wailed  Tom,  left  alone  with  Mr.  Crabtree  and  Mr. 
Kirke.  "  What  was  it  3-011  said  just  now,  Mr.  Kirke? 
Did  you  mean  honest  you  could  set  my  bones?  " 


DROXES*  HONEY.  121 

'il  did  Tom;  can't  you  believe  me?"  The  tone 
was  clear,  firm,  and  re-assuring. 

"A  natural  bouesetter,  hey?"  said  Mr.  Crabtree 
with  his  loudest  laugh  ;  while  Tom  regarded  Mr.  *Kirke 
with  a  look  of  awe  second  only  to  that  he  might  have 
felt  for  a  two-headed  animal  or  other  monstrosity. 

"  It  has  come  in  my  way  to  set  three  broken  bones, 
and  one  was  a  compound  fracture." 

"•Did  they  heal  firstrate?"  asked  Mr.  Crabtree 
cautiously. 

"  Yes,  to  a  charm." 

"All  right,"  said  Tom.  "Go  ahead.  I'll  risk  it 
if  you  will." 

Mr.  Crabtree  laughed  again,  whether  at  the  "  natural 
bouesetter' s  "  rashness  or  the  patient's  credulity  did 
not  appear.  But  he  said  next  moment,  "  Yes,  Kirke, 
try  it ;  and  I'll  bear  you  out  in  it.  I  don't  believe  }"ou'd 
undertake  any  thing  you  couldn't  carry  through. ' '  And, 
as  Tom  would  wait  no  longer,  it  was  tried  accordingly, 
Mr.  Crabtree  lending  his  aid  and  countenance. 

"I  tell  you  what  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Crabtree  after 
wards,  in  tones  of  unqualified  admiration,  "I  don't 
believe  there's  a  full-fledged  Philadelphia  doctor  could 
have  handled  that  case  any  better  than  what  Kirke  did. 
Knew  just  where  every  thing  ought  to  go,  and  laid  'em 
all  together  as  neat  as  a  pin.  I  never  saw  anybody  go 
to  work  so  hand}'." 

It  is  no  more  than  the  truth  to  say  that  the  young 
man  had  a  real  enthusiasm  for  a  thing  of  this  sort,  a 
loving  interest  in  wrecks  of  matter,  which  is  simpby 
incomprehensible  to  the  average  mind.  Tom  could 
not  have  done  him  better  service  than  to  go  to  pieces 


122  DRONES'  HOXEY. 

in  this  way,  and  allow  himself  to  be  put  together 
again. 

When  Dr.  Campbell  arrived  from  Liter's  Falls  after 
all  was  over,  and  there  was  nothing  left  to  do,  he  ex 
pressed  entire  satisfaction  with  the  lay  performance, 
and  advised  the  amateur  surgeon  by  all  means  to  keep 
the  case.  He  doubted  if  he  himself  could  manage  it 
better. 

"That's  right,"  said  Tom,  turning  to  Mr.  Kirke 
with  the  affectionate,  pleading  look  of  a  wounded  dog. 
"  You'll  stay  by  me,  won't  }'ou,  sir?  " 

The  young  man  felt  that  he  was  "  in  for  it."  He 
had  never  been  depended  upon  to  "  stay  by  "  anybod}* ; 
but  there  was  no  resisting  a  look  like  that  from  Tom, 
especially  since  the  poor  fellow  owed  his  mishap  to  that 
"machine,"  which  had  never  been  set  in  any  spot  yet 
where  it  had  not  been  in  somebody's  way. 

"  Yes,  Tom,  I'll  stay  by  you,"  said  Mr.  Kirke,  so 
promptly  that  nobody  suspected  it  cost  him  an  effort. 
He  liked  surgery,  and  why  not  nursing?  At  least,  Mrs. 
Simpson  was  sure  a  little  care  and  responsibility 
wouldn't  hurt  him  a  grain. 

"  He'll  find  it  some  work  trotting  back  and  forth  to 
the  north  room,  it's  so  out  of  the  way.  But  I  can't 
say  I  pity  him  much,"  said  she,  in  confidence  to  Mrs. 
Crabtrce.  "  He  would  put  Tom  in  there,  and  now  he 
must  take  the  consequences." 


DROXES'  HONEY.  123 


XI. 


"  Blessed  is  he  who  hath  found  his  work ;  let  him  ask  no  other 

blessedness." 

CARLYLE. 

TOM  proved  a  most  exacting  patient.  The  strong, 
stirring  young  fellow  had  never  before  been  "  laid 
up  "  a  day  in  his  life  ;  and  now,  with  no  amusement  but 
to  lie  and  think  what  he  would  like  to  do  if  he  could 
"  get  round,"  it  was  surprising  how  his  imagination 
was  quickened,  and  how  many  things  in  remote  places 
he  thought  of,  and  came  to  consider  indispensable  to 
his  well-being  and  comfort.  He  would  hardly  allow 
Mr.  Kirke  out  of  his  sight ;  and  the  young  man  thought 
with  a  sigli  of  Cobb's  brook,  and  its  "  shadowy  water 
with  a  sweet  south  wind  blowing  over  it,"  and  the 
trout  darting  through  it  in  all  their  "  speckled  pride." 

Toward  evening  Tom  grew  fretful.  "  You  ain't  going 
off  to  leave  me,"  he  besought,  as  the  self-installed 
nurse  ventured  to  recommend  solitude  to  his  patient, 
as  conducive  to  sleep.  "  Why,  I  can't  shut  my  eyes 
unless  I  know  you  are  sitting  right  there  by  me." 

"  Oh,  I'll  stay  with  you,  Tom,  if  you'll  be  quiet !  Do 
jTou  know  you've  talked  for  two  hours  like  a  delirious 
magpie  ? ' ' 

It  was  the  first  entire  evening  that  Mr.  Kirke  had 
spent  without  a  rim  to  Violet  Hill,  and  he  regarded 


124  DRONES'  HONEY. 

Tom  as  childish  and  unreasonable.  It  had  been  a 
sultry  day,  and  the  next  was  still  more  oppressive ; 
Mr.  Cromwell,  the  tin-man,  expressing  grave  fears 
that  it  would  "  unsodder  him."  Mr.  Kirke  wondered 
how  it  was  faring  with  the  "  young  ladies,'"  and  on  in 
quiring  of  Jimmy  Skilliugs  learned  that  they  "  hadn't, 
either  of  'em,  been  out  that  day.  He  guessed  likely 
they  had  a  sight  of  work  to  do. ' ' 

The}r  were  indeed  busy,  but  had  found  time  to  think 
of  Mr.  Kirke,  and  say  to  each  other,  "  Why  hasn't  he 
been  in?"  Rosa  had  heard  of  Tom's  mishap,  but 
not  of  Mr.  Kirke's  surgical  feat.  "  Tom's  limb  was 
broken,"  she  said. 

"What,  his  arm?" 

"  No :  his  limb.  If  it  was  his  arm,  I  should  have 
said  so,"  returned  the  extremely  proper  little  maid. 

Andrew  Cromwell,  who  came  the  next  afternoon  to 
work  on  the  roof,  informed  the  3"oung  ladies  that  Mr. 
Kirke  had  left  the  day  before  for  Chicago.  And  was 
it  not  strange  that  he  should  have  gone  without  so 
much  as  a  word  of  good-by  ? 

"  I  thought  he  meant  to  stay  at  least  several  days 
longer,  for  you  know  he  spoke  of  another  ride,"  said 
Miss  Wilder. 

"  He  must  have  changed  his  mind  rather  suddenly," 
returned  Miss  Searle,  taking  up  a  spray  of  mountain 
fringe  from  the  hall  table,  and  placing  it  carefully  in 
the  bronze  vase  on  the  window-sill. 

Miss  Wilder  looked  through  the  screen-door  at  the 
summer  fields,  and  said,  as  if  she  were  reading  the  words 
in  the  air,  "  But  he  has  not  gone,  Evelyn.  I  don't 
believe  he  would  be  so  rude." 


DROATES'  HONEY.  125 

This  was  a  bold  denial,  considering  that  Andrew  had 
actually  seen  him  enter  the  cars ;  but  whatever  Theo- 
date  said  in  that  slow,  positive  way  of  hers  seemed 
rather  surer  than  the  evidence  of  one's  own  senses. 

"Maybe  you're  right,"  said  Miss  Searle,  but  with 
no  appearance  of  especial  interest.  She  had  agreed 
with  her  friend  that  they  should  miss  Mr.  Kirke,  that 
his  calls  had  been  their  best  entertainment  this  summer. 
But  just  now  her  mind  seemed  to  be  engrossed  in  the 
new  tin  gutter  which  was  being  laid  upon  the  roof. 
"Is  it  nearly  done,  Andrew?"  said  she  anxiously  to 
the  eye-servant,  who  was  standing  on  a  ladder  near  the 
piazza.  The  work  had  been  promised  weeks  ago,  and 
Miss  Searle  was  becoming  impatient. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  certain,"  replied  Andrew,  pre 
tending  to  consider  the  matter  as  he  gazed  down  un 
flinchingly  into  the  innocent  eyes  raised  to  his.  "This 
is  a  slow,  puttering  job,  you  see ;  and  I've  had  every 
thing  to  hinder  me." 

"  I  should  think  he'd  be  ashamed  to  lie  to  her  in 
that  way,  when  she  believes  every  word  he  says," 
thought  Reuben  Wyman,  the  assistant  workman,  who 
knelt  on  the  grass  watching  his  irons  heating  in  a 
small  iron  stove,  from  the  top  of  which  issued  a  tow 
ering  smoke,  like  the  genii  ascending  from  the  vial. 

Astonished  and  alarmed,  the  birds  had  left  their  nests 
in  the  piazza  roof  and  were  flying  away  with  loud  cries, 
to  report  to  their  neighbors  that  the  world  was  about 
to  burn  up.  Andrew  came  down  the  ladder  a  few 
steps,  and  peered  cautiously  under  the  roof.  "You 
have  phrebes  building  here  every  year,  I  take  it." 

"Yes,  these  corner-lots  are  never  vacant. — O  An- 


126  DROA7ES*  HONEY. 

drew,  Andrew,  you  are  not  going  now !  "  as  the  young 
tinman  leisurely  dropped  to  the  ground,  and  began  to 
put  on  his  coat. 

"  Yes,  ma'am.  I  lack  about  a  foot  of  tin.  Can't 
go  back  for  it  to-night.  Got  to  go  now  and  mend 
Simpson's  lead  pipe.  I'll  be  back  to-morrow,"  replied 
the  finished  liar,  without  the  quiver  of  an  e3Telash  ; 
though  it  was  simply  his  inveterate  "  shiftlessness  " 
that  was  sending  him  home  to  an  early  supper,  and  he 
knew  that  Miss  Wilder  knew  it,  if  Miss  Searle  did  not. 

Both  the  ladies  were  speechless,  for  what  would  speech 
have  availed  ?  But  Miss  Searle  stood  for  a  few  moments 
on  the  piazza,  allowing  herself  to  feel  the  full  force  of 
her  disappointment.  The  young  apprentice  looked  at 
her  compassionately,  being  not  yet  hardened  in  the 
guileful  ways  of  his  craft.  There  against  the  roof 
leaned  the  ladder ;  there  on  the  lovely  grass  lay  scat 
tered  the  unsightly  old  shingles  ;  and,  though  the  shed 
was  out  of  sight  from  the  piazza,  the  boy  knew  it  was 
disgraced  by  a  broken  window  which  Andrew  had  prom 
ised  to  mend.  After  precious  time  spent  by  Miss 
Searle  in  seeking  and  then  in  watching  these  workmen, 
they  had  effected  nothing  but  this  miserable  chaos ; 
and  when  Andrew  would  find  it  convenient  to  come 
back  with  that  "foot  of  tin"  who  could  say?  She 
went  to  the  other  end  of  the  piazza,  and  was  looking 
up  with  a  troubled  air  at  the  empty  birds'-nests,  when 
Cousin  Ozro  dropped  down  upon  her  suddenly  from 
the  roof ;  and  next  moment  Mr.  Kirke  was  saying, 
"  Good-evening  ;  your  cousin  is  responsible  for  bring 
ing  me  round  by  way  of  the  orchard." 

Miss  Searle's  face  brightened  visibly  as  she  extended 


DRONES'  HONEY.  127 

her  hand,  and  Mr.  Kirkc  was  sure  he  could  not  be 
mistaken  in  thinking  she  was  certainly  glad  to  see  him. 
She  did  not  say  that  his  coming  to-night  had  been  un 
expected  ;  but  he  learned  it  next  moment  from  Miss 
Wilder,  who  came  out  exclaiming  cordially,  — 

"  Ah,  so  you  are  not  gone,  after  all?  —  There,  Eve 
lyn,  what  did  I  say?  " 

"Could  you  think  for  a  moment  that  I  would  steal 
out  of  town  without  letting  you  know  it?  "  returned  Mr. 
Kirke,  in  some  surprise,  though  immensely  flattered. 
So  his  going  away  would  really  have  been  a  matter  of 
regret  to  the  young  ladies.  So  they  had  been  discuss 
ing  it  with  interest.  So  that  was  why  Miss  Searle  had 
met  him  with  such  a  smile.  Well,  he  was  glad  he  had 
found  out  that  they  really  cared  a  little  about  him,  and 
were  not  disposed  to  throw  him  over  on  Joe's  account ; 
for  he  had  often  felt  that  he  suffered  vicariously  for 
Joe,  by  being  always  associated  with  him  in  their  minds. 
He  had  fancied,  the  last  time  he  called  with  that  turbu 
lent  youth,  that  Miss  Searle  had  looked  at  them  both 
with  nearly  equal  disfavor ;  for  Joe  had  contrived  on 
that  occasion  to  place  him  in  a  most  ridiculous  light. 

"  What  of  Mr.  Fiske?  Has  he  really  gone?  "  asked 
Miss  Wilder  with  a  humorous  look. 

"  Yes,  really.    At  au}T  rate,  I  saw  him  enter  the  car." 

"  I  fancy  Mr.  Fiske  is  not  feeling  very  well ;  he  is 
astonishingly  thin  this  summer,"  said  Miss  Wilder. 

"  Very  thin,"  echoed  Miss  Searle,  without  venturing 
to  meet  any  one's  eye.  And  so  the  subject  of  poor 
Joe  was  dropped  as  by  one  consent,  and  even  Ozro  did 
not  venture  to  take  it  up  again.  In  fact,  Ozro's  mis 
chievous  spirit  was  inclined  just  now  in  another  direc- 


128  DRONES'  HONEY. 

tion.  He  had  conceived  the  idea  that  he  would  like  an 
invitation  to  supper,  and  was  intriguing  to  bring  it 
about. 

"  What  is  that,  Evelyn,"  pretending  to  misunder 
stand  something  she  was  trying  to  say:  "lawn  tea? 
Wiry,  I'm  glad  you  thought  of  it !  That's  capital." 

Of  course  she  had  neither  said  nor  thought  a  word  of 
the  sort :  but  the  rogue  knew  well  enough,  that,  after 
this  suggestion,  a  lawn  tea  would  be  inevitable  ;  and  so 
it  proved.  It  was  only  half-past  five,  the  heat  of  the 
day  had  not  abated  in  the  least,  and  Mr.  Kirke  had 
just  been  saying  that  the  piazza,  with  the  breeze  from 
the  river,  was  the  coolest  place  he  had  seen.  He  had 
left  Tom  safely  asleep,  and  there  was  no  reason  why 
he  might  not  accept  this  very  tempting  invitation, 
which  came,  as  he  honestly  supposed,  from  head 
quarters  ;  and  he  accepted  it  accordingly. 

"  Ozro  shall  suffer  for  this,"  thought  Miss  Wilder, 
as  she  disappeared  to  the  kitchen  to  give  her  orders 
to  Rosa.  Fortunately  there  was  a  roasted  chicken  in. 
reserve  for  to-morrow's  dinner,  and  there  were  plenty 
of  strawberries  on  the  vines  ;  but  this  did  not  lessen  in 
the  least  the  deep  guilt  of  Ozro,  who  neither  knew  nor 
cared  any  thing  about  the  state  of  the  larder.  It  might 
have  been  worse  ;  and,  despite  the  annoyance  she  nat- 
uralty  felt  at  being  forced  into  this  impromptu  hospi 
tality,  Miss  Wilder  could  not  but  admit  that  she  should 
enjoy  a  social  meal  with  such  an  agreeable  guest  as 
Mr.  Kirke.  Rosa  would  not  mind  bringing  out  the 
light  table  and  the  landscape  china,  old  and  precious, 
and  should  make  cream  biscuits ;  she  seldom  failed 
with  these.  But  what  had  gone  amiss  with  Rosa,  that 


DRONES'  HONEY.  129 

she  whistled  so  joyously  ?  For  it  was  always  misfortune 
that  called  forth  her  sweetest  strains.  Miss  Wilder 
entered  the  kitchen  prepared  for  a  catastrophe,  but 
nothing  worse  had  happened  than  the  overturning  of  a 
pitcher  of  rich  buttermilk  on  the  unpainted  shed  floor. 

"  Oh,  yes,  mum,  cream  biscuits  ;  yes,  rnum !  They'll 
be  easy  mixed,  and  I'll  fetch  out  the  table  and  all," 
responded  Rosa,  on  her  knees  scrubbing  the  floor, 
while  the  "grave-yard  rabbit,"  suspended  from  her 
neck,  beat  what  might  be  called  a  lively  funeral  march. 
She  thoroughly  liked  Miss  Date,  yet  there  were  reasons 
why  she  considered  lawn  teas  a  nonsensical  nuisance. 
"Ain't  you  afraid  they'll  break  the  chiuy  out  there, 
mum?  It's  hard  getting  the  table  sut  just  even." 

"Slice  the  cold  chicken,  Rosa,"  said  Miss  Date, 
who  had  a  way  quite  foreign  to  Miss  Evelyn  of  "  shut 
ting  up  "  the  little  maid.  "  And  give  us  iced  tea  and 
strawberries,  and  we'll  eat  at  seven,"  was  the  final 
order. 

It  was  a  tempting  table  that  was  spread  on  the  lawn 
before  the  piazza ;  and  Ozro  hoped  Mr.  Kirke  was 
duly  grateful  to  him  for  the  meal,  and  duly  impressed 
by  the  lovely  way  in  which  his  cousin  Evelyn  presided. 
He  was  proud  of  Evelyn  at  any  time ;  and  to-night, 
with  that  flush  on  her  cheeks,  she  was  what  he  elegant 
ly  termed  a  "raving,  tearing  beauty."  Rosa  was  of 
the  same  opinion.  Coming  in  with  the  biscuits,  she 
gazed  lingeringly  at  her  mistress  in  her  fleecy  white 
gown,  and  thought  if  she  could  be  borne  straight  up  to 
heaven  on  a  mighty,  rushing  wind,  looking  as  she  did 
this  minute,  the  angels  would  gladly  make  room  for 
her,  and  never  doubt  she  was  one  of  their  own.  "  Such 


130  DRONES'  HONEY. 

crispy,  goldy  hair  !  And  that  easy  way  she  moves  her 
head  and  arms,  as  if  they  didn't  weigh  a  feather!  I 
won't  like  her  better'n  I  do  Miss  Date,  though  ;  for  it's 
Miss  Date  that  most  generally  always  helps  me  wash 
days,  and  I'll  like  her  best,  if  it  kills  me."  And  she 
took  dutiful  care  to  throw  Miss  Wilder  a  smile  as  she 
disappeared  with  the  cake-plate  ;  only  the  smile  glanced 
off  perversely,  and  was  caught  on  the  way  in  the  meshes 
of  "  crispy,  goldy  hair,"  a  mistake  which  Miss  Wilder 
would  have  pardoned  freely,  if  she  had  known  it. 

Theodate  was  looking  very  happy  to-night,  though 
she  was  always  happier  than  people  supposed.  Her 
eyes  had  a  look  of  measureless  content,  as  they  swept 
the  far-reaching  landscape  below  and  around  her  and 
rested  at  last  on  the  dark-blue  mountain  range  softly 
outlined  against  the  western  sky.  Was  there  on  earth 
a  fairer  spot?  She  thought  not,  and  Miss  Wilder  was 
a  young  lady  of  decided  opinions.  She  had  come  to  it 
two  years  ago  from  the  total  wreck  of  a  home,  and 
found  shelter,  peace,  and  loving-kindness ;  and  were  it 
possible  for  Violet  Hill  to  crumble  by  to-morrow  into 
a  sandy  desert,  like  Vassal  Vose's  estate,  it  would  re 
main  forever  dear  and  sacred  to  her  grateful  heart. 

The  conversation  turned  naturally  upon  Tom's  mis 
hap  ;  and,  with  Ozro  for  a  trumpeter,  Mr.  Kirke  be 
came  the  hero  of  the  hour. 

"  I  tell  you,  girls,  he's  a  stunner.  The  doctor  from 
Liter's  Falls  says  he  didn't  leave  any  rough  edges,  and 
he'd  trust  him  as  quick  as  he  would  a  professional 
hand." 

This  was  all  new  to  the  young  ladies,  and  seemed 
at  first  incredible.  "  What,  you,  Mr.  Kirke,  without 


DRONES'  HONEY.  131 

any  knowledge  of  the  art?"  exclaimed  Miss  Searle 
with  very  wide  eyes. 

"  Oh,  I  have  a  superficial  knowledge,  enough  to 
serve  in  an  exigency  !  " 

"  Now,  you  needn't  believe  that.  He's  altogether 
too  modest,"  cried  the  admiring  Ozro. 

"Of  course  he  is,  and  he  knows  it,"  said  the 
straightforward  Miss  Wilder.  "  You  didn't  perform 
such  an  operation  by  accident,  Mr.  Kirke." 

"  No ;  I  have  had  a  little  practice,  though  only  in 
cases  of  emergency  like  this." 

She  drew  a  long  breath.  "  You  are  a  perpetual  sur 
prise  to  me.  You  remember,  Evelyn,  we  first  knew 
him  as  a  photographer,  next  we  learned  he  was  a  law 
yer,  and  now  he  turns  out  a  surgeon." 

Mr.  Kirke  set  down  his  glass  of  iced  tea  in  a 
slightly  confused  manner.  "  You  make  me  out  a 
Jack-at-all-trades,  Miss  Wilder;  and,  the  worst  of  it 
is,  there  is  some  truth  in  it." 

"  But  you  have  studied  surgery?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  only  in  a  cursory  way,  as  I've  studied 
every  thing  else ;  though  I  admit  it  always  took  a 
stronger  hold  on  me  than  my  other  studies,  for  I  liked 
it  better." 

There  was  an  inquiring  look  in  Miss  Searle's  eyes, 
but  she  said  nothing.  What  would  she  have  liked  to 
say?  The  conversation  drifted  now  into  a  general  dis 
cussion  of  medical  science  and  the  progress  of  ideas ; 
Dr.  Sangrado's  name  was  brought  up,  the  fabled 
physician  who  wrote  in  favor  of  the  practice  of  bleed 
ing,  and  declared  "•  if  he  killed  off  all  his  patients,  he 
must  continue  bleeding,  for  the  credit  of  his  book." 


132  DRONES'  HONEY. 

Mr.  Kirke  said  that  only  forty  years  ago  there  was 
a  loud  cry  against  anesthetics ;  and  when  they  were 
defended  on  the  ground  that  Adam  underwent  a  sur 
gical  operation  in  his  sleep,  the  reply  was,  "  Ah,  but 
that  was  before  sin  entered  the  world !  " 

Miss  Searle  remarked  that  vaccination  was  bitterly 
opposed  a  century  ago ;  and  Miss  Wilder  said  it  was 
some  time  later  that  windmills  were  voted  down  in 
Scotland,  because  they  were  in  league  with  Satan,  the 
11  prince  of  the  powers  of  the  air." 

"  I'll  try  to  match  that,"  said  Ozro.  "  When  they 
discovered  the  bones  of  those  cave-men  in  France, 
they  thought  at  first  the}7  were  the  remains  of  fallen 
angels." 

"Well,  we  shouldn't  have  been  wiser  to-day  than 
any  of  these  people,  if  we  had  not  been  instructed," 
said  Miss  Searle  softly:  "  so  we  needn't  be  proud  of 
our  knowledge.  We  didn't  acquire  it ;  we  merely  in 
herit  it,  you  know,  as  an  idle  young  man  inherits  his 
father's  fortune." 

"An  idle  young  man."  It  was  impossible  to  sus 
pect  the  gentle  girl  of  any  covert  meaning ;  but  Mr. 
Kirke  had  a  growing  sensitiveness  regarding  his  stand 
ing  in  Narransauc,  which  lent  a  sting  to  the  words. 
Every  man,  woman,  and  child  in  the  busy  town  seemed 
to  be  pointing  a  finger  at  him,  metaphorically,  and  ask 
ing  him  what  he  was  good  for ;  and  this  imaginary 
question,  so  novel  as  well  as  perplexing,  he  was  wholly 
unable  to  answer. 

"Mr.  Kirke,"  said  Ozro  after  a  pause,  with  a  seri 
ous  look  which  sat  almost  grotesquely  on  his  merry 
face,  "  father  and  I  have  been  having  aii  argument  to- 


DRONES'  HONEY.  133 

day,  and  I'd  like  your  vote  upon  it.  He  says  I  ought 
to  be  choosing  my  profession  now,  this  minute,  before 
I  leave  college.  Do  yon  believe  it?  " 

"  That  depends.     What  is  your  bias?  " 

"Bias?  I  haven't  the  sign  of  a  bias;  but  when 
I  say  that  to  father,  he  thinks  I'm  a  dunce.  Now,  I 
want  to  know  if  it's  customary  for  fellows  to  have  a 
bias.  Did  you  know  off-hand  at  my  age  what  yon 
wanted  to  be?  " 

"N-o-o." 

"  There,  I  told  him  so.  I  told  him  I'd  warrant 
you'd  had  your  time  of  dillydallying. " 

"Ah!" 

"  Yes.     I  don't  know  why  I  thought  so,  but  I  did." 

"  Perhaps,  unfortunately,  I  don't  remind  you  of 
Daniel  Webster  or  Rufus  Choate,"  said  Mr.  Kirke 
dryly. 

"Oh,  I  don't  mean  any  disrespect!  I've  no  doubt 
you  have  great  influence  over  a  jury ;  only,  from  the 
way  you  spoke  the  other  day,  I  thought  perhaps  you 
didn't  take  up  law  from  any  particular  liking,  you  know. 
I  thought  you  didn't  seem  very  enthusiastic  over  it." 

Mr.  Kirke  looked  rather  uncomfortable,  though  Ozro 
had  spoken  with  a  marked  attempt  at  politeness.  "  The 
truth  is,  Mr.  Searle,  I  have  a  partner  who  achieves  all 
the  enthusiasm  for  the  firm,  and  all  the  business  too : 
so  any  effort  on  my  part  is  quite  superfluous." 

"Huzza!  That's  the  very  thing  forme.  Find  me 
such  a  partner,  will  you?  and  I'll  be  a  law}Ter  to 
morrow.  ' ' 

Mr.  Kirke  shook  his  head,  and  replied  very  seriously, 
"  There's  nothing  worse  for  a  young  man  than  to  help 


134  DXOA?ES'  HONEY. 

him  too  much  at  the  start.  It's  like  setting  a  baby  on 
its  feet  before  it's  ready  to  walk." 

"  Oh,  you  needn't  be  concerned  about  my  being 
propped  up  too  much  !  There's  no  money  in  our  family  ; 
and  I've  got  to  work  my  way  along,  every  step  of  it," 
said  Ozro  with  a  wry  face. 

w  I'm  honestly  glad  to  hear  it,  for  it  was  the  bane  of 
my  life  that  I  wasn't  obliged  to  work  my  way.  There 
was  a  groove  made  for  me  ;  and  I  was  set  in  it,  and  left 
to  slip  along  on  rollers." 

"  But  3'ou  had  some  studying  to  do?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  now  and  then  !  But  it  is  surprising  how 
little  study  you  can  get  on  with,  and  pass  the  law." 

Mr.  Kirke  had  no  intention  of  punning.  The  con 
versation  was  becoming  unpleasantly  personal ;  and 
Miss  Wilder  did  not  help  him  much  when  she  fastened 
her  searching  eyes  upon  him,  and  said  impressively, 
"Are  you  sure  the  law  is  your  vocation,  Mr.  Kirke?  " 

"About  as  sure  of  it  as  1  am  of  the  color  of  the 
mud  in  the  moon." 

"  Yet  it  was  your  choice?  " 

"I  have  not  said  so.  If  you  remember,  I  just 
remarked  that  the  choice  was  not  mine.  I  merely 
accepted  what  stood  ready  for  me." 

"Pardon  me,"  persisted  Miss  Wilder,  "but  you 
don't  seem  to  me  like  the  sort  of  person  to  do  that. 
Now,  I  should  have  said  you  have  a  pretty  strong  will 
of  j'our  own." 

"But  can't  you  imagine  my  being  too  indolent  to 
exert  it?"  returned  Mr.  Kirke,  the  color  mounting 
to  his  brow  with  as  keen  a  seuse  of  shame  as  he  had 
ever  felt  in  his  life. 


HONEY.  135 

What  must  these  two  working  bees  think  of  such  a 
drone?  And  how  easily  he  might  have  avoided  con 
victing  himself  in  their  presence.  Few  young  men 
would  have  considered  such  frankness  necessary ;  but 
if  Ben  Kirke  spoke  of  himself  at  all,  it  was  always 
honestly,  with  a  fine  scorn  of  extenuation. 

Miss  Searle  had  been  wishing  for  some  time  to 
come  to  his  relief,  and  she  now  began  to  say  something 
about  the  phcebes  in  the  corner  lot ;  but  Ozro  struck 
in  with  boyish  obtuseuess :  "  I  say,  Mr.  Kirke,  now, 
honestly,  don't  you  believe  you  were  cut  out  for  a 
doctor?" 

The  question  whizzed  through  the  air  like  a  bullet 
shot  from  a  gun. 

"  Maybe  I  was.  I  confess  I  have  often  thought  so, 
and  that  my  going  into  the  law  was  a  mistake." 

Miss  Searle  stooped  to  pick  up  her  handkerchief.  "  It 
is  not  too  late  to  correct  the  mistake,  is  it?  "  laughed 
she  in  a  low,  sweet  tone,  so  close  to  his  ear  that  no  one 
else  heard  it. 

She  spoke  carelessly,  but  the  words  electrified  him. 
He  raised  his  head  quickly  ;  and,  as  he  looked  at  her,  his 
eyes  kindled.  "  Not  too  late."  It  came  with  the  force 
of  a  conviction.  How  often  he  had  vaguely  wondered, 
especially  of  late,  if  he  might  not  some  time  strike  out 
in  a  new  path,  and  be  something  more  than  a  mere 
hanger-on  upon  Randall.  But  the  thought  had  hardly 
taken  definite  shape  before,  as  a  question  to  be  met 
face  to  face  and  decided  once  for  all. 

Miss  Searle  glided  back  easily  now  to  the  pha'bes,  and 
from  them  to  the  last  novel,  and  the  little  tea-party 
broke  up  very  pleasantly.  But,  as  Mr.  Kirke  sought 


136  DRONES'  HONEY. 

his  pillow  that  night,  the  words  repeated  themselves  in 
his  ear:  "It  is  not  too  late  too  correct  the  mistake,  is 
it?" 

"Natures,  like  melodies,  have  their  key-notes;" 
and  the  key-note  of  his  nature  had  been  struck.  Had 
Evelyn  done  it  unwittingly  ?  For  a  transparent  woman, 
she  was  sometimes  hard  to  read.  How  much  had  she 
meant  by  these  careless  words?  But  the  young  man's 
heart  responded,  — 

"  No,  it  is  not  too  late." 


DRONES'  HONEY.  137 


XII. 

11  God  is   ever  drawing  like    toward  like,  and   makinr/  them 

acquainted." 

PLATO. 

"  TF  he  carries  out  this  project,  he  has  me  to  thank 

-L  for  it ;  though  I'm  sometimes  afraid  he  considers 
me  a  prig,"  said  Miss  Wilder  with  a  pained  look  in 
her  e}*es,  as  she  stood  before  the  hall  mirror  without 
looking  into  it,  and  energetically  tied  her  bonnet- 
strings. 

"  Then  he  thinks  the  same  of  me,"  returned  Evelyn, 
peeping  over  her  friend's  shoulder  to  see  if  her  own 
bonnet  was  straight.  The  eyes  of  the  two  young 
ladies  met  in  the  glass. 

"You?  Oh,  no,  dear!  You  couldn't  preach,  to 
save  your  life.  You  only  look  at  him  wistfully,  while  I 
harangue ;  but  did  you  think  three  weeks  ago,  when 
we  had  that  lawn  tea,  that  he  would  spring  up  so 
suddenly,  and  go  to  studying  with  Dr.  Stone?  " 

"  No ;  but  he  does  not  call  it  studying :  he  is  only 
browsing  among  the  doctor's  books,  he  says,"  re 
turned  Evelyn,  pinning  a  rose-geranium  into  her  belt. 
"  I  do  like  these  flowers  that  grow  in  clusters,  bless 
their  hearts,  they  have  such  a  social  look.  —  Ah,  there 
he  comes." 

"  Good-by,  Rosa,  we  are  gone,"  called  out  Theo- 
date  toward  the  kitchen  ;  adding  in  an  aside  to  Evelyn, 


138  DRONES'  HONEY. 

"I  could  wish  Ozro  might  be  left  at  home  when  we 
ride." 

It  is  possible  that  Mr.  Kirkc  had  the  same  wish  ;  but 
of  what  avail  the  fourth  seat  in  a  carryall,  if  not 
occupied?  And  how  can  you  exclude  a  boy  who  never 
waits  for  an  invitation,  but  assumes  that  he  is  the  life 
of  the  party,  and  even  suspects  that  -the  party  was 
made  for  him  ?  Ozro  was  in  the  highest  possible  feather 
to-day,  prepared  to  lead  the  conversation,  as  usual, 
for  the  relief  of  Mr.  Kirke  and  the  girls.  He  always 
studied  Mr.  Kirke's  wishes  in  this  regard,  and  was 
glad  that  he  could  make  himself  so  useful  to  him ; 
for  he  was  becoming  completely  enthralled  by  the 
large,  indolent  young  man,  who  seemed  so  little  self- 
centred,  so  careless  of  effect.  He  tried  to  copy  Mr. 
Kirke's  ringing  laugh,  his  easy  gestures,  his  very 
pleasant  way  of  elevating  his  eyebrows ;  and,  as  for 
his  style  of  necktie,  he  would  hit  that  off  or  perish  in 
the  attempt. 

Mr.  Kirke  might  not  have  been  aware  of  this  ami 
able  weakness  in  Ozro  ;  but  the  young  ladies  had  been 
quick  to  see  and  smile  at  it,  though  they  allowed  it  to 
pass  without  comment.  He  was  like  Victor  Hugo's 
flea,  "full  of  good  sentiments,"  and  his  talk  was  an 
intermittent  play  of  fireworks.  But,  during  a  brief 
pause,  Evelyn  ventured  to  ask  Mr.  Kirke  if  he  could 
tell  her  the  meaning  of  a  word  which  had  puzzled  her 
all  the  morning,  —  "•  honey-dew."  "  I  am  sure  it  is  of 
Greek  origin,"  said  she,  "  but  I  cannot  find  it  in  any 
of  our  books  on  Grecian  literature." 

He  tried  to  be  politely  serious,  as  he  asked,  "  Have 
you  looked  in  the  English  dictionary,  Miss  Searle?  " 


DX  ONES'  HONEY.  139 

She  bore  with  very  good  grace  the  laugh  which  fol 
lowed,  though  Ozro  from  that  time  forth  gave  her  little 
peace  of  her  life.  He  didn't  take  stock  in  Greek,  he 
said,  had  never  read  a  Greek  play,  didn't  know  any 
thing  particular  about  Grecian  history  ;  but  he  hoped 
he  knew  honey-dew.  Would  be  pleased  to  show  her 
some,  if  she'd  condescend  to  look  at  any  thing  so  com 
mon.  Plenty  in  the  wood ;  but  she  might  prefer  to  go 
to  Greece  for  it,  etc. 

"And  now,  Miss  Searle,"  said  Mr.  Kirke,  as  she 
began  to  recover  from  her  blushing  confusion,  "there's 
a  word  I'd  like  to  have  you  define  for  me  :  it's  drones' 
honey." 

"  Stop  a  minute.  I  didn't  know  they  made  it,"  cried 
Ozro. 

"  I  saw  that  very  word  this  morning,  Mr.  Kirke, 
when  I  was  looking  for  the  other  one ;  but  I  can't  tell 
you  what  it  means." 

"  Where  did  you  see  it?  " 

"  In  Plato's  '  Republic.'  '  When  a  young  man  has 
tasted  drones'  honey  '  —  I  forget  the  rest.  But  farther 
on  it  says,  '  And  so  the  young  man  returns  into  the 
country  of  the  lotus-eaters.'  ' 

"Thank  you,  Miss  Searle.  I  heard  somebody  use 
the  word  ouce,  derisively,  and  I've  wondered  ever  since 
where  it  came  from."  And  then  he  added  to  himself, 
with  an  unconscious  squaring  of  the  shoulders,  "  It 
shall  never  be  flung  at  me  again.  Drones'  honey  is 
bitter  to  the  taste:  I  abjure  it  forever."  For  while 
he  had  no  present  intention  of  leaving  Narransauc,  the 
country  of  the  lotus-eaters,  persuading  himself  that  he 
was  actually  needed  here  till  Tom  should  get  upon  his 


140  DRONES'  HONEY. 

feet  again,  he  had  nevertheless  decided  to  make  a 
complete  revolution  on  his  return  to  Chicago,  drop  the 
law,  and  begin  the  study  of  medicine.  True,  he  had 
wasted  some  valuable  time ;  but  a  man  at  twenty-six 
is  not  yet  old,  and  may  still  hope  for  better  days. 
"•  Father  will  grind  me  to  the  earth  for  it,  but  I  shall 
be  more  of  a  man  under  his  heel  than  I  am  now  as  a 
figure-head  in  Randall's  office.  As  for  mother"  — 
This  was  a  sentence  he  had  never  been  able  to  finish. 
He  left  it  like  a  serial  story,  to  be  continued. 

They  were  travelling  over  a  pleasant  road,  bordered 
by  white  birches,  willows,  and  alder-bushes,  and  were 
approaching  a  small  white  schoolhouse  which  stood 
blistering  in  the  sun. 

"  I  taught  my  first  school  here,  —  oh,  so  long  ago !" 
said  Miss  Searle  with  a  playful  sigh. 

"  It  was  built  near  that  birch  grove,  so  it  would  be 
handy  for  her  to  send  out  after  switches,"  explained 
Ozro  to  Mr.  Kirke  ;  "  but,  I'm  sorry  to  say,  she  had  to 
be  fined  for  whipping  the  children  too  hard." 

Here  he  fell  into  contortions  of  mirth  at  the  absurd 
ity  of  the  idea. 

"  It  was  the  summer  before  I  met  you,  Theodate," 
continued  Miss  Searle,  in  a  reminiscent  tone.  "  I  was 
a  little  girl  of  fifteen,  and  had  just  gone  into  long 
dresses,  and  was  full  of  poetical  fancies.  I  wonder  if 
they've  taken  down  a  wreath  of  immortelles  I  hung  on 
the  wall.  It  was  still  there  when  I  peeped  in  last 
year." 

Unfortunate  remark.  Ozro  at  once  seized  the  reins 
and  stopped  the  horses,  exclaiming,  "  Let  her  out,  let 
her  out."  And,  quite  unexpectedly  to  themselves, 


DRONES'  HONEY,  141 

Miss  Searle  and  Mr.  Kirke  were  left  standing  together 
by  the  roadside ;  while  Ozro  drove  on  at  a  furious  rate 
with  Miss  Wilder,  despite  her  threats  and  protestations. 
The  situation  was  a  trifle  awkward  for  the  deserted 
ones,  though  they  made  as  merry  over  it  as  they  could. 

"At  least,  you  can  peep  in  at  the  window  now," 
said  Mr.  Kirke,  mentally  wishing  he  had  in  his  hand 
one  of  the  birch  switches  Ozro  had  been  discoursing 
of,  and  could  apply  it  to  his  saucy  young  shoulders. 

They  did  peep  in  through  a  very  dirty  window,  and 
beheld  for  their  pains  an  empty  schoolroom,  left  an 
hour  ago  in  rude  disorder,  and  a  smoke-stained  wall, 
on  which  hung  the  ambitious,  but  dry  and  dusty,  motto  : 
Ad  astras. 

"  There  it  is  in  its  fadeless  glory.  What  a  silly  child 
I  was!  "  exclaimed  Evelyn. 

"  What  is  it  made  of,  — immortelles?  " 

"Yes;  and  don't  you  detest  them?  Such  juiceless 
flowers.  Can  you  see  why  people  should  use  them  as 
an  emblem  of  immortality?" 

"  No  :  they  are  a  dreary  mockery  of  it  to  me.  They 
do  not  remind  me  of  heaven,  but  of  Nirvana,"  said  Mr. 
Kirke,  trying  the  window  to  see  if  he  could  raise  it. 

"Think  of  dragging  out  a  stupefied,  stifled  eternity 
on  a  schoolhouse  wall,"  said  Evelyn.  "Wouldn't 
you  rather  be  a  wholesome,  homely  hollyhock,  to  grow 
old  and  die  when  your  time  comes?  " 

"  Perhaps  so;  unless  I  were  granted  the  consolation 
of  being  set  up  by  you  in  Latin." 

Evelyn  laughed.  "  I  wonder  I  did  not  try  Hebrew 
or  Sanscrit :  it  would  have  been  still  more  imposing. 
Dear  me ;  how  proud  I  felt,  sitting  in  that  desk  after 


142  DRONES'  HONEY. 

school,  stitching  those  letters  on  green  cambric,  with 
the  children  watching  me,  so  full  of  awe,  and  wonder 
ing  what  it  meant !  " 

"  I  can  imagine  it,"  said  Mr.  Kirke,  "  and  the  guile- 
lessness  of  your  face.  They  must  have  adored  you  for 
your  humility  as  much  as  your  learning.  Will  you  give 
me  that  motto,  Miss  Searle?  " 

"  Not  if  you  laugh  at  it." 

"Oh,  I'm  deeply  serious  !  Here  comes  Ozro.  — Why 
did  you  take  the  trouble  to  come  back  for  us,  Ozro? 
We  hoped  you  would  be  kind  enough  to  let  us  walk 
home,"  said  Mr.  Kirke,  debating  in  his  own  mind  the 
feasibility  of  taking  the  lad  one  side  at  the  first  oppor 
tunity,  and  giving  him  a  wholesome  shaking.  But, 
when  Evelyn  and  Ozro  reached  the  carriage,  Mr.  Kirke 
was  not  to  be  seen.  He  had  gone  around  to  the  back 
side  of  the  schoolhouse,  climbed  in  at  the  open  window, 
and  was  capturing  the  coveted  wreath  of  immortelles. 

t¥Jt  is  mine,  is  it  not?"  said  he,  emerging  with  it 
in  his  hand,  and  flipping  the  dust  from  it  as  he  held 
it  up  to  Miss  Searle's  view. 

"  Why  should  it  be  yours?    Did  I  give  it  to  you?  " 

"  Possibly  not,  in  so  many  words  ;  but  I  have  it  by 
right  of  possession,  you  see,"  entering  the  carriage 
and  coolly  taking  up  the  reins. 

"  To  the  robber  belong  the  spoils,"  said  Miss  Wild 
er.  "  But  perhaps  you'll  tell  us  what  you  want  to  do 
with  this  elegant  trophy,  Mr.  Kirke." 

''  Oh,  merely  to  hang  it  up  in  my  room  at  the  Druid, 
and  admire  it  for  its  modest  worth  !  " 

"A  clear  case  of  spoons,"  whispered  Ozro  behind 
his  hand  to  Miss  Wilder,  in  a  tone  so  audible  that  it 


DRONES'  HONEY.  143 

was  only  by  a  lucky  accident  that  Mr.  Kirke  did  not 
hear  it. 

Miss  Wilder  made  no  response,  but  looked  thought 
fully  at  Evelyn's  flushed  and  annoyed  face,  then 
at  her  own  folded  hands,  and  remained  silent  for 
some  time. 

The  next  evening  had  been  appointed  for  a  row  on 
the  river ;  and  when  they  were  all  four  seated  in  the 
boat,  advancing  quietly  up  stream,  Mr.  Kirke  said, 
turning  to  Miss  Searle,  t;  Do  you  know,  my  conscience 
has  been  pricking  me  all  day  for  that  theft  of  yester 
day." 

' '  Do  you  mean  the  motto  ?  I  am  glad  you  have  a 
conscience,  Mr.  Kirke." 

"  But,  you  see,  I  don't  intend  to  give  up  such  a  fine 
piece  of  workmanship  after  the  great  risk  I  ran  to  get 
it." 

"  Then  your  repentance  is  not  genuine." 

"  Oh,  3'es,  it  is  !  I  long  to  make  reparation  ;  but  can 
you  expect  me  to  give  up  that  motto,  when  I  need  it 
for  my  moral  improvement?  " 

"  What's  your  reparation  ?  "  asked  Ozro. 

Mr.  Kirke  produced  something  from  his  pocket,  which 
he  placed  in  Miss  Searle's  hand.  "  A  curious  stone  I 
found  last  summer  in  Dakota,  or  that  a  friend  of  mine 
found,  who  was  with  me." 

She  made  an  exclamation  of  delighted  surprise,  as 
her  eye  fell  upon  it.  It  was  a  moss  agate,  about  an 
inch  long  and  half  an  inch  wide,  with  a  pictured  sur 
face,  so  truly  and  cunningly  fashioned  by  Nature  that 
it  seemed  a  perfect  work  of  art.  It  was  a  castle  with 
three  towers,  and  a  low  wall  in  the  rear,  while  beyond 


144  DROATES'  HONEY. 

•was  a  sea-line  distinctly  defined.  The  castle  was  seat 
ed  on  the  brow  of  a  promontory ;  the  view  down  the 
side,  in  the  foreground,  broken  into  two  distinct  lines 
of  road,  leading  to  the  gates.  All  this  in  a  combina 
tion  of  colors  so  striking  and  beautiful,  that  it  was 
hard  to  believe  it  a  work  of  chance. 

"You  are  only  jesting  with  us,  Mr.  Kirke.  Now, 
confess  that  some  one  painted  this  stone,"  said  Miss 
Wilder,  as  it  passed  under  her  inspection. 

"  Upon  ray  word,  it  has  only  been  cleansed  and  pol 
ished." 

"  O  Ozro,  do  be  careful !  "  said  Evelyn,  as  the  lad 
plunged  the  agate  into  the  water  and  brought  it  up 
dripping. 

"  Did  you  suppose  I  was  going  to  let  it  fall?  There, 
take  it,  if  you  think  I  can't  be  trusted,"  dropping  it 
into  her  palm. 

After  another  admiring  look  at  the  stone,  Miss 
Searle  gave  it  back  with  a  word  of  thanks  to  Mr. 
Kirke. 

"  Why  do  you  return  it?  It  is  not  mine  ;  that  is,  if 
you  will  condescend  to  accept  it." 

"You  did  not  really  intend  to  give  this  to  me?" 
exclaimed  Evelyn,  in  some  embarrassment. 

"Oh,  no!  It's  merely  a  barter.  I  hoped  you  might 
accept  it  in  exchange  for  the  wreath." 

"  But  this  stone  is  so  rare,"  said  she,  looking  up  at 
him  with  a  smile  of  hesitation. 

"  So  is  the  motto." 

"  But  the  motto  is  not  valuable." 

"  Why  not,  if  I  prize  it?  " 

"  I  am  on  his  side  there,  Evelyn,"  said  Ozro,  fear- 


DRONES'  HONEY.  145 

ful  of  being  left  out  of  the  conversation.  "  He  knows 
what  the}-  are  both  worth  to  him,  and  you'd  better  take 
the  stone  at  his  valuation." 

"  It  isn't  fair  to  tempt  me,"  replied  Evelyn,  turning 
instinctively  toward  Theodate,  who  had  said  noth 
ing,  but  was  regarding  her  with  a  sidewise  look  hard  to 
interpret. 

"  I  think  the  gnomes  intended  this  for  one  of  your 
sisters,"  added  Evelyn  |  "'twould  make  her  such  a 
pretty  brooch." 

Mr.  Kirke  bowed  veiy  soberly,  and  deposited  the 
bone  of  contention  in  his  breast-pocket  with  a  slightly 
offended  air,  which  did  not  augur  well  for  any  future 
benevolence  toward  either  of  his  sisters. 

Miss  Wilder  roused  herself  with  an  effort:  "Now, 
Evelyn,  you  don't  know  but  he  will  lose  the  stone  be 
fore  he  reaches  Chicago.  How  could  you  let  such  a 
beautiful  thing  go  out  of  your  hands?*" 

Miss  Searle  laughed  lightty,  thinking  perhaps  she 
had  made  an  undue  difficulty  over  a  trifle.  Mr.  Kirke 
saw  his  advantage,  and  was  not  slow  to  press  it :  so 
it  came  to  pass  that  the  beautiful  moss  agate,  half 
against  her  will,  went  over  to  Evelyn's  possession. 

This  episode,  trifling  in  itself,  made  a  marked  im 
pression  upon  Miss  Wilder,  who  sat  looking  silently 
down  at  the  dark  water.  "Where  doves  are,  doves 
come,"  thought  she.  Gifts  were  always  showering  upon 
Evelyn,  unsought.  Her  friends  seemed  of  one  mind  in 
their  desire  to  enrich  her,  as  if  unable  to  denj-  them 
selves  so  great  a  pleasure.  Miss  Wilder  did  not  expect 
such  offerings  herself,  nor  had  she  any  mean  envy  of  her 
more  popular  friend.  She  was  not  thinking  now  so 


146  DRONES'  HONEY. 

much  of  Mr.  Kirke's  gift,  as  of  the  soulful  earnestness 
that  went  with  it. 

"  Where  doves  are,  cloves  come,"  she  repeated, 
gazing  steadfastly  into  the  water.  "To  him  that  hath 
shall  be  given  ;  and  I  charge  you  to  remember,  Theo- 
date  Wilder,  that  it  is  all  of  the  Lord.  He  oft'ers  to 
one  a  full  cup,  to  another  a  scanty  drop ;  to  one  a 
sweet  draught,  to  another  a  bitter  potion  ;  and  who 
is  he  that  replieth  against  the  Lord?  " 

"  What  do  you  see  down  there?  "  asked  Ozro,  lean 
ing  his  head  on  his  arm  and  staring  down  too,  while 
the  iridescent  drops  trickled  from  his  suspended  oar. 

Theodate  made  a  laughing  reply,  not  liking  her 
friends  to  think  her  dull.  It  chanced,  however,  that 
Evelyn  was  thinking  very  little  about  her  at  that 
moment ;  and  as  for  Mr.  Kirke,  she  might  have  fallen 
asleep,  with  her  head  inclining  over  the  boat,  without 
attracting  his  attention.  If  an  instantaneous  photo 
graph  could  have  been  taken  of  the  minds  of  the 
part}',  the  record  might  have  read  somewhat  as  fol 
lows  :  — 

Miss  Wilder  (sadly  but  resolutely)  :  "Well,  I  have 
to  accept  myself  as  I  am  :  I  can't  make  one  hair  white 
or  black." 

Mr.  Kirke  (delighted)  :  "  How  gracefully  she  yielded 
at  last !  I'd  be  perfectly  happy  if  it  had  been  a  set  of 
turquoise." 

Miss  Searle  (fluttered)  :  "  I  think  I  never  saw  a 
youug  man  with  just  that  manner,  so  deferential  and 
courtly.  There  is  certainly  a  charm  in  such  a  manner." 

Ozro  (flippantly):  "There  ought  to  be  an  asylum 
for  lovers.  How  much  I  stood  from  Fiske,  and  now 


DRONES'  HONEY.  147 

here's  Kirke !  Hope  I  haven't  got  to  follow  'em 
round  all  summer ;  but  they  seem  to  expect  it." 

"  What  wonderful  shadows  those  trees  give  !  "  said 
Miss  Wilder,  breaking  the  silence. 

"  Almost  tangible,  as  if  }'ou  had  only  to  put  out 
your  hand  and  grasp  them,"  said  Miss  Searle.  "  The 
illusion  is  very  much  like  those  memories  of  the  past 
that  come  before  us  with  such  tantalizing  vividness 
sometimes,  — the  beautiful  past,  though  it  is  out  of  our 
reach  forever." 

"But  you  wouldn't  live  it  over  if  you  could,  Eve- 
lyn." 

"Indeed  I  would." 

"Then  it  is  just  possible  you  may,"  remarked  Mr. 
Kirke  with  a  mysterious  smile  from  under  his  hat-brim. 

"  Please  explain." 

"  Why,  the  past  is  somewhere,  Miss  Searle.  It  is 
not  gone, — that  is,  not  gone  out  of  the  universe, — 
is  it?" 

She  regarded  him  with  a  puzzled  look. 

"  Events  that  are  quite  forgotten  on  earth  may  be 
just  looming  up  to  view  on  one  of  the  fixed  stars,  you 
know." 

"Provided  they  have  suitable  telescopes,"  struck  in 
Ozro. 

"  Well,  but  what  have  we  to  do  with  the  fixed  stars?  " 
asked  Evelyn. 

"  Nothing,  as  yet ;  but  we  may  have  a  good  deal  to 
do  with  them  ages  hence.  They  may  be  our  future 
homes,  for  aught  we  know,"  replied  Mr.  Kirke,  who 
enjoyed  watching  her  face  as  a  new  idea  swept  swiftly 
over  it. 


148  DRONES'  HONEY. 

"  Oh,  I  understand !  We  may  look  down  from  those 
awful  spaces  on  this  '  wild  balloon,'  the  earth,  and 
see  what  happened  a  thousand  years  ago,  as  if  it  were 
passing  now.  It  will  have  just  reached  us.  Is  that 
what  you  mean?" 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  I'm  in  for  it,"  said  Ozro.  "  Is  that  origi 
nal,  Mr.  Kirke?" 

"No,"  with  a  strong  stroke  of  the  oar.  "  I  believe 
the  theory  was  offered  forty  years  ago  by  some  fanciful 
Englishman." 

"  At  any  rate,  it  opens  up  a  vista  of  strange  specu 
lation,"  said  Evelyn  dreamily.  "Maybe  the  ideal  is 
just  a  hint  of  light  from  the  future  :  who  knows?  " 

"  However  that  may  be,  I  think  we  might  get  a 
good  moonlight  view  from  the  top  of  this  hill,"  sug 
gested  Theodate.  "  Suppose  we  land  and  try  it." 

They  beached  their  boat  and  sauntered  up  the  bank, 
Ozro  wondering  that  Theodate  should  seize  upon  his 
arm  before  he  thought  of  offering  it ;  amused,  too,  by 
the  deferential  manner  in  which  Mr.  Kirke  assisted  his 
agile  cousin,  who  never  needed  any  help  in  climbing  a 
hill  when  she  walked  with  him. 

"  I'm  getting  tired  of  this,"  thought  the  boy,  yawn 
ing.  "  Theodate  doesn't  take  the  least  pains  to  in 
terest  me,  and  here  are  the  other  two  dropping  their 
voices  sometimes  so  that  I  can  hardly  catch  a  word. 
They'd  better  be  careful,  or  I  shall  cut  them  entirely." 


DRONES'  HONEY.  149 


XIII. 

"  Wilt  thou  m  ix  hellebore,  who  dost  not  know 
How  many  grains  should  to  the  mixture  go  ?  " 

SIR  WALTER  SCOTT. 

IT  was  the  third  day  of  a  hearty  rain,  which,  as  Mr. 
Crabtree  said,  "  had  broken  the  drouth,  and  would 
prove  an  excellent  thing  for  the  fall  feed."  It  was 
Sunday  evening,  dark  and  gusty,  and  the  lamps  had 
been  lighted  early  at  Violet  Hill.  There  was  also  a 
small  fire  upon  the  hearth,  sending  up  playful  tongues 
of  flame,  as  if  not  more  than  half  in  earnest,  but  mean 
ing  it  chiefly  for  good  cheer  and  fellowship.  Miss 
Searle  had  not  been  quite  well  for  a  few  days  ;  but  now, 
declaring  herself  "much  better  of  her  poorliness," 
had  donned  her  white  wrapper,  and  was  seated  in  the 
Elizabethan  chair,  with  her  little  slippered  feet  upon 
the  brass  fender,  looking,  so  Rosa  declared,  "  very 
saintish  indeed."  Miss  Wilder  had  been  reading  to 
the  invalid  from  Longfellow's  "  Golden  Legend  ;  "  but 
now  both  the  young  ladies  were  chatting  in  low,  pleas 
ant  tones,  while  Miss  Searle  held  in  her  hand  a  bunch 
of  nasturtiums,  and  picked  off  one  by  one  their  orange 
hoods.  The  kitchen-door  was  ajar;  and  they  could 
hear  the  faint  "  under-song"  of  the  tea-kettle,  mingled 
with  the  monotonous  sound  of  Rosa's  voice  as  she  read 
aloud  to  herself  a  letter  from  Peter,  who  had  gone  to 


150  DRONES'  HONEY. 

Bangor  to  buy  a  horse  for  his  master.  Rosa  could 
never  "  seuse  "  either  a  written  or  a  printed  page 
unless  she  read  the  words  audibly. 

"  Nature  has  been  rather  economical  with  that  child 
in  the  way  of  brains,"  remarked  Miss  Wilder,  rising 
to  close  the  door. 

"  She  is  very  proud  of  Peter's  letter,"  said  Miss 
Searle,  "and  admitted  to  me  to-day  that  she  'likes 
him  quite  well ; '  though  how  much  that  means,  I'm  sure 
I  don't  know." 

"  Nor  does  she  know,  poor  thing.  Isn't  love  always 
a  puzzle?"  returned  Miss  Wilder,  picking  up  a  brand 
and  laying  a  fresh  stick  on  the  fire  before  she  took  her 
seat  again. 

"  Yet  love  is  supposed  to  be  a  necessity  of  a  woman's 
life,"  said  Miss  Searle,  watching  the  leaping  flames 
dreamily. 

"  Can  3-011  call  it  a  necessity,  dear,  when  so  many 
women  live  without  it?  " 

"•I  suppose  not;  they  get  on  so  very  comfortably, 
too." 

"  Yes,  apparently,"  said  Miss  Wilder,  rising  again 
and  going  to  the  window.  "  I  believe  this  is  the  clear 
ing-off  shower.  A  love  that  is  perfect  and  satisfying, 
Evelyn,  do  you  believe  it  is  common?  " 

"  Oh,  no  !  Nothing  perfect  is  common  in  this  world. 
Doesn't  it  seem  as  if  half  the  married  people  we  see 
are  making  pitiful  attempts  to  keep  up  appearances  ? 
But  then,"  added  Evelyn  with  sudden  humility,  "  what 
do  3'ou  and  I  know  about  it,  who  only  look  on  from  the 
outside,  —  we,  the  unchosen  ones?" 

"  TFe,  the  unchosen  ones !     The  sweet  little  hypo- 


DRONES'  HONEY. 


crito,"  thought  Miss  Wilder  grimly.  Then  aloud, 
"  Evelyn,  when  I  think  of  Joe  Fiske,  and  how  he  tried 
to  call  you  down  to  him,  I  have  no  patience  with  his 
presumption.  But  if  some  one  else,  if  "  :  — 

It  was  not  common  for  Miss  Wilder  to  talk  so  dis- 
jointedly  ;  and  Miss  Searle  asked,  "What  do  you 
mean,  Theodate?  "  as  the  sentence  still  hung  in  the  air. 

"  I  believe  it  is  this  howling  wind  that  makes  me  so 
nervous,"  said  Miss  Wilder.  "  I  hope  1  don't  remind 
you  of  that  partially  insane  lawyer  we  were  talking  of 
yesterday,  who  felt  constrained  to  whirl  around  three 
times  before  he  could  sign  his  name." 

Here  she  sprang  up,  and  set  her  chair  against  the 
wall.  "But  what  I  was  trying  to  say  was  this"  — 
Another  pause.  "If  the  time  should  ever  come,  Evelyn, 
when  you  feel  that  some  one  else  is  more  to  you  than 
I,  let  all  our  protestations  be  forgotten,  let  them  die 
like  empty  breath." 

"Why,  Theodate,  what  has  come  over  you?  I've 
certainly  given  you  no  cause  to  say  any  thing  like 
this,"  protested  Evelyn,  grieved  and  amazed.  But  the 
light  falling  on  her  face  showed  it  curiously  disturbed  : 
her  mouth  trembled,  and  there  was  a  flash  of  some 
sort  of  fire  in  her  eyes.  Was  it  the  fire  of  righteous 
indignation  ? 

That  she  considered  herself  indignant,  there  could 
be  no  reasonable  doubt.  It  was  unjust  and  unkind  in 
Theodate  to  speak  to  her  in  this  way.  What  had  she 
ever  said  or  done  which  could  bo  construed  into 
disloyalty  to  this  dearest  and  best  of  friends?  If 
Theodate  meant  Mr.  Kirke  as  the  "some  one  else" 
who  might  possibly  come  between  them,  —  and  Evelyn 


152  DRONES'  HONEY. 

would  not  pretend,  even  to  herself,  that  she  did  not 
mean  Mr.  Kirke,  —  why,  it  was  certainly  most  indeli 
cate  in  Theodate.  A  comparative  stranger,  a  man 
whom  neither  of  them  had  seen  or  heard  of  two  months 
ago.  A  friendly  person,  to  be  sure  ;  an  agreeable  com 
panion,  who  had  made  the  summer  very  pleasant  for 
them  both,  but  who  would  go  home  and  forget  them, 
and  probably  never  set  foot  in  Narransauc  again. 

"  O  Theodate,  you  have  wounded  me  to  the 
heart !  "  said  Evelyn,  pinching  the  pungent  nasturtiums 
together,  and  casting  them  into  the  fire. 

Theodate  sheathed  her  sharp  eyes,  and  turned  away. 
She  would  not  embarrass  her  friend  by  seeming  to 
watch  her  face  ;  nor  had  she,  indeed,  the  moral  courage 
for  her  own  sake  to  look  at  it ;  for  a  feeling  of  dread 
was  upon  her,  almost  as  if  the  curtain  which  hides  the 
future  were  about  to  rise. 

"Well,"  thought  she,  "I  did  not  do  it  well;  but 
it  is  done.  I  have  said  all  I  meant  to  say,  and  now 
I'll  leave  the  subject  with  her." 

This  was  Mr.  Marsh's  favorite  remark  after  an 
exhortation  ;  and  at  that  moment  the  mellow  sound  of 
the  church-bell  fell  upon  her  ear,  reminding  her  of  the 
evening  meeting,  which  she  had  not  thought  of  attend 
ing.  But  now  the  wild  impulse  came  upon  her  to  flee 
abroad,  and  breast  the  storm ;  for  to  remain  within 
doors  seemed  intolerable.  "Evelyn,  dear,  if  I've 
been  talking  nonsense,  it's  because  I've  been  in  the 
house  all  day,  and  that  always  makes  me  morbid,  you 
know :  so  now,  even  if  it  does  rain  a  little,  I  believe 
I'd  better  go  to  church." 

"  Why,  Theodate,  it  pours." 


DRONES'  HONEY.  153 

But  she  had  already  gone  to  the  kitchen  to  look  for 
the  lantern  ;  and  Evelyn  knew  better  than  to  waste 
words  on  the  strong-minded  young  lady,  when  her 
resolve  was  once  fixed. 

"'My  bonnie  wee  croodlin  doo',"  said  Theodate, 
setting  down  the  lighted  toy-lantern  on  the  hearth,  and 
going  up  to  Evelyn  with  a  face  full  of  motherly  tender 
ness,  tinged  with  a  little  remorse,  "  you  look  pale  and 
worn.  I  know  you'll  be  easier  and  quieter  all  alone. 
Go  straight  to  bed,  won't  you,  dear." 

"  Yes,  I  will.  Was  there  any  medicine  to  be  taken 
to-night?" 

"To  be  sure.  How  could  I  have  forgotten?"  said 
Theodate,  fastening  her  gossamer  with  fingers  that 
trembled  from  suppressed  excitement.  "Affection  is 
the  sweetest  blessing  the  Lord  has  to  bestow  ;  and  who 
am  I,  to  demand  the  best  gifts  v  All  there  is  for  us  in 
this  twilight  world  is  to  trust  and  be  quiet,"  said  she 
to  herself  over  and  over,  as  a  sort  of  panacea  for 
heartache,  while  she  went  to  the  little  medicine-closet, 
called  the  end  cupboard,  for  Evelyn's  powders. 

It  was  time  to  be  starting  for  church  ;  the  way  was 
long,  and  the  walking  execrable  :  but  it  would  not  have 
occurred  to  Theodate  that  any  one  but  herself  could 
perform  this  little  office  for  Evelyn.  "  Here,  darling," 
said  she,  re-appearing  in  the  parlor  with  cup,  spoon, 
and  glass  of  water,  which  she  set  on  the  mantel.  "  I 
am  getting  it  all  ready  for  you  ;  but  you  needn't  take  it 
till  the  last  minute,  just  as  you  go  to  bed.  Now,  don't 
forget." 

"No,  I'll  not  forget,"  replied  Evelyn  languidly, 
feeling  her  own  health  to  be  a  matter  of  supreme  iudif- 


154  DROATES'  HONEY. 

ference  since  she  had  given  it  unreservedly  into  the 
hands  of  this  competent  keeper.  Theodate  detested 
drugs,  and  disapproved  of  Dr.  Stone,  yet  very  incon 
sistently  allied  herself  with  the  enemy  by  always 
administering  his  doses ;  though  she  did  it  under  a 
vigorous  protest,  which  served  to  ease  her  own  con 
science  of  the  burden  of  responsibility. 

"  There,  I'm  afraid  1  shall  be  late.  Good-by,  dear. 
Be  asleep  before  I  come  home,"  said  she,  dropping  a 
light  kiss  upon  her  friend's  pale  cheek,  as  she  rushed 
out  of  the  room  with  impetuous  haste.  No  one  ever 
called  Miss  Wilder  "  nervous."  It  was  the  last  word 
that  seemed  appropriate  to  a  person  of  her  remarkable 
repose  of  manner.  But  there  were  times,  as  now,  when 
an  acute  observer  might  have  seen  in  her  face  a  tense 
look,  as  if  she  were  holding  turbulent  emotions  in 
leash,  and  dared  not  relax  her  grasp  for  an  instant. 

"  I  send  my  shout  into  the  abyss,  and  no  answer 
comes  back,"  said  she  to  herself;  yet  her  lips  were 
dumb,  and  she  seemed  to  be  pursuing  her  way  in  utter 
calmness  against  the  rain,  which  was  pouring  diagon 
ally  from  the  north-east,  when  not  diverted  by  sudden 
gusts  to  the  west  and  south. 

Mr.  Kirke  stood  by  the  parlor  window  of  the  hotel, 
gazing  out  into  space.  The  night  had  shut  down  in 
tensely  dark  in  the  tree-shaded  village  street ;  and  he 
could  see  absolutely  nothing  except  for  the  few  lan 
terns  which  winked  sleepily  here  and  there,  revealing 
glimpses  of  the  men  who  carried  them,  and  of  the  mud 
and  water  they  were  wading  through. 

"  That  lady  looks  verjT  familiar  to  me,"  thought  he, 
watching  a  lonely  figure  making  its  difficult  way  down 


DRONES'  HONEY.  155 

the  street.  A  sudden  gleam  of  light  fell  upon  her  pale, 
resolute  face.  It  was  Miss  Wilder.  What  had  called 
her  out  in  this  storm?  He  remembered  then  that  the 
bell  had  rung  for  church,  and  exclaiming,  "  I'm  going 
with  her."  rushed  for  hat  and  umbrella,  glad  of  any 
sort  of  diversion,  even  in  the  teeth  of  the  tempest,  after 
two  hours'  attendance  on  cross  Tom.  Miss  Wilder 
was  glad  to  see  him,  or  said  she  was. 

"  What  a  long,  long,  weary  day  it  has  been  !  I  staid 
at  home  reading  till  my  mind  feels  perfectly  extin 
guished,  like  the  clinkers  in  old  coal,"  said  she,  accept 
ing  Mr.  Kirke's  arm,  and  yielding  him  the  lantern. 
She  was  nearly  breathless  with  her  long,  hard  buffet 
against  the  wind,  and  it  was  a  relief  to  know  she  would 
not  have  to  return  alone. 

"  How  is  Miss  Searle?  " 

'l  Better,  in  spite  of  Dr.  Stone." 

"  What,  she  has  not  been  ill  enough  to  consult  him  ?  " 
The  tone  was  so  full  of  real  concern  that  Theodate 
wondered  to  herself  mischievousl}*  how  the  J'oung  man 
would  bear  it  to  be  told  that  Evelyn's  case  had  been 
considered  grave  enough  to  call  for  some  of  the  strong 
est  drugs.  He  did  not  know,  perhaps,  that  it  was  Dr. 
Stone's  way  to  resort  to  them  on  the  slightest  provoca 
tion. 

"Do  you  approve  of  Dr.  Stone?"  she  asked  ab 
ruptly. 

"  I  hardly  know  him.  He  is  kind  enough  to  allow 
me  a  corner  in  his  office,  to  look  over  his  books  ;  but 
he  is  seldom  there  himself." 

"  I  am  glad  of  that,  for  he  might  contaminate  you 
with  some  of  his  obsolete  notions  ;  but  his  books  are 


156  DRONES^  HONEY. 

probably  no  worse  than  other  people's.  I  think  you 
are  pretty  brave,"  she  added,  "  to  take  up  this  new 
study  simply  because  you  were  made  for  it.  That  is 
going  straight  to  the  heart  of  things  in  a  way  people 
in  general  won't  understand.  What  do  you  suppose 
they  will  say  to  you  for  dropping  a  certainty  for  an 
uncertainty?" 

"  They  will  say  precisely  what  the}*  please,  Miss 
Wilder;  they  usually  do." 

"  Then  you  don't  care.     I  thought  you  wouldn't." 

"  The  hardest  foes  I  shall  have  to  meet  will  be  those 
of  my  own  household,"  pursued  the  young  man,  with 
a  pugnacious  clutch  of  the  umbrella  handle;  "espe 
cially  my  father,  who  will  be  likely  to  cut  me  off  with 
a  shilling." 

"  Do  you  mean  it,  Mr.  Kirke?  " 

"Yes;  I  shall  be  greatly  surprised  otherwise.  He 
has  always  wished  to  order  my  life  for  me.  He  has 
never  learned  the  art  of  letting  me  alone." 

Miss  Wilder  was  struck  by  the  hardness  of  the 
tone.  The  words  seemed  almost  to  come  through 
closed  teeth. 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  of  '  malignant  kindness  '  ?  "  he 
asked  with  a  forced  laugh.  "  Yet  he  is  one  of  the 
best  of  men.  The  truth  is,  I  am  the  only  son,  and 
have  been  a  means  of  discipline  to  him  all  along. 
The  hold  he  has  had  on  me  has  been  entirely  through 
my  mother,  and  he  knows  it.'" 

There  was  a  long  pause.  "When  I  am  a  famous 
physician,  Miss  Wilder,  with  a  trans- Atlantic  reputa 
tion,  you  will  remember  that  I  owe  it  to  you  and  Miss 
Searle/' 


DRONES'  HONEY.  157 

"Yes,  I'll  remember,"  said  she,  wondering  rather 
bitterly  what  Miss  Searle  had  had  to  do  with  it.  It  was 
she  alone  who  had  spoken  to  him  on  the  subject,  yet 
this  he  seemed  entirely  to  forget.  And  why  should 
she  care?  He  was  not  the  only  person  who  had  felt 
her  influence  without  recognizing  it,  nor  was  this  the 
first  time  she  had  been  dropped  out  of  notice  where 
Evelyn  was  concerned. 

"  Evelyn  is  a  sun,  and  all  things  revolve  around  her ; 
while  I  am  only  a  moon,  shining  by  reflected  light, 
and  giving  no  warmth  that  one  perceives.  Ah,  well, 
the  moon  has  her  quiet  use,  for  all  that,  her  small 
place  in  the  universe  ;  I  hope  the  insignificant  creature 
knows  and  is  glad  she  can  control  the  tides,  whether 
the  ocean  ever  thanks  her  for  it  or  not." 

It  was  with  these  and  similar  reflections,  by  no 
means  appropriate  to  the  time  and  occasion,  that  a 
little  later  on  Miss  Wilder  sat  in  church  looking  over 
the  hymn-book  with  Mr.  Kirke.  It  was  a  wild  impulse 
that  had  sent  her  forth  that  evening,  and  the  turbu 
lence  had  not  yet  subsided ;  but  ah,  if  she  had  known 
what  was  passing  all  the  while  at  Violet  Hill ! 

Aunt  Ann  Searle  was  sitting  quietly  in  her  library 
reading,  her  husband  reclining  on  the  sofa,  the  rest  of 
the  famih"  chatting  in  the  parlor ;  when  Rosa  burst  in, 
wringing  her  hands,  and  crying  out  to  them  both  to  go 
home  with  her  and  see  what  had  happened  to  Miss 
Evelyn.  In  trying  to  come  out  of  her  room  a  few 
moments  before,  she  had  fallen  to  the  floor  insensible ; 
and  Rosa,  all  alone  with  her  in  the  house,  had  dragged 
her  back  to  her  bed,  and  managed  to  lift  her  upon  it. 

"Where   is  Mr.  Ozro?     Send  him  for  the  doctor, 


158  DRONES'  HONEY. 

and  you  come  quick.  Come,  come,  come,"  wailed 
Rosa,  clutching  at  Mr.  Searle's  dressing-gown,  as  if 
her  entreaties  were  needed  to  move  him.  And,  though 
he  and  his  wife  set  forth  in  all  possible  haste,  the  girl 
lingered  not  a  moment,  but  saying,  "  I'm  going  for 
Miss  Date,"  darted  headlong  into  the  darkness. 

When  the  Searles  reached  Violet  Hill,  they  found 
Evetyn  lying  where  Rosa  had  left  her,  utterly  sense 
less,  but  with  a  flushed  face  and  fearfully  labored 
breath.  Several  of  the  neighbors  were  in  the  house, 
having  been  startled  by  the  incessant  screams  of 
Rosa,  as  she  tore  madly  down  the  hill.  No  less  than 
three  boys  had  been  despatched  for  Dr.  Stone,  and 
one  for  Dr.  Cargill  of  Latium  ;  and  meanwhile  all  was 
confusion.  Everybody  was  running  up  or  down  stairs, 
begging  of  somelxxly  else  to  be  told  what  to  do. 

"  A  hot  foot-bath  and  hot  soapstones  !  "  cried  one. 
"  It  is  apoplexy." 

"  No,  no  !  Fan  her,  fan  her!  It's  syncope,"  cried 
another. 

"Oh,  wake  her!  do  wake  her!"  begged  a  third. 
"It's  catalepsy." 

"  You're  all  wrong,"  said  her  uncle,  with  glaring 
eyes  bent  upon  the  lifeless  figure  :  "  it's  poison." 

Horrible  words  !  Absurd  !  Incredible  !  Yet  Mr. 
Searle  had  no  sooner  spoken,  than  a  conviction  flashed 
on  everj'  mind  that  he  was  right.  A  cup,  spoon,  and 
glass  stood  upon  a  light  stand  near  the  bed,  till  this 
moment  quite  unnoticed.  But  now  all  eyes  were 
turned  to  these  mute  objects ;  they  had  suddenly  as 
sumed  a  terrible  significance.  Wild  thoughts  surged 
through  the  brains  of  Mrs.  Crabtree,  Mrs.  Simpson,  and 


DRONES'  HONEY.  159 

old  Mrs.  Putnam,  which  they  would  not  have  uttered 
aloud  for  worlds.  Thoughts  like  these  :  — 

' '  Could  Theodate  have  done  it  ?  She  had  such  a  dark 
complexion,  almost  like  an  Indian.  She  loved  Evelyn 
as  she  did  her  life,  or  pretended  to :  how  did  you 
know?  Or  there  might  have  been  a  quarrel.  But,  oh, 
to  think  of  it,  killing  her  friend  and  benefactor,  the 
beautiful,  innocent  Evelyn,  and  then  running  away ! 
Her  running  away  was  certainly  very  much  against  her." 

"  I  suppose  this  is  her  regular  medicine?  "  spoke  up 
aunt  Ann  Searle,  taking  the  cup  in  her  hand,  and  hold 
ing  it  critically  to  the  light.  "Theodate  will  be  here 
in  a  few  minutes,  and  then  we  shall  know  what  it  was. 
There  has  been  some  frightful  mistake." 

"Where  is  the  doctor?"  cried  one  and  another. 
"  If  he  should  be  laid  up  now,  I'd  never  forgive  him." 

There  were  one  or  two  medical  works  in  the  library ; 
and  Mr.  Searle  and  Mr.  Crabtree  seized  upon  them  as 
a  forlorn  hope,  turning  to  this,  that,  and  the  other 
antidote  for  poison.  But  which  antidote  would  meet 
this  unknown  case?  Had  she  swallowed  opium,  strych 
nine,  or  arsenic.  Who  could  tell?  And  would  the 
doctor  ever  come  ? 

Hot  and  cold  remedies  were  applied,  and  the  win 
dows  raised.  The  patient  was  kept  constantly  in 
motion.  There  was  no  change,  except  that  the  breath 
seemed  farther  drawn  and  more  difficult. 

Would  the  doctor  never  come? 

Yes ;  here  he  was  at  last,  driving  up  with  despera 
tion.  Long  as  the  delay  had  seemed,  he  had  wasted 
not  a  moment  on  the  road,  though  none  of  the  mes 
sengers  had  told  a  coherent  story.  He  had  not  the 


160  DRONES'  HONEY. 

usual  appliance  for  poison,  — a  stomach-pump,  —  and 
bad  telephoned  to  Latium  for  one. 

"  I  know  no  more  than  the  rest  of  yon  what  has 
been  given  to  her,"  said  the  old  doctor  with  dreadful 
candor,  "and  I  can't  say  whether  I'm  too  late  or 
not ;  but  all  of  you  leave  the  room  but  the  Seaiies. 
We  will  do  what  we  can  with  hypodermic  injections  of 
brandy  ;  and  God  help  us." 

The  neighbors,  their  number  constantl}*  increasing, 
paced  the  rooms  down-stairs,  their  hearts  sinking 
again  ;  for  Dr.  Stone's  manner,  far  from  re-assuring, 
had  filled  them  with  even  deeper  despair.  u  That  dear 
girl,  that  sweet  girl,  — oh,  we  can't  let  her  die  ! "  And 
one  woman  related  to  another,  with  falling  tears,  some 
story  of  Evelyu's  wonderful  goodness  to  her  or  hers, 
which  rendered  it  highly  improbable  to  her  own  mind 
that  so  angelic  a  being  would  be  permitted  to  die. 

"Oh,  but  she's  wanted  in  heaven,  you  may  depend 
upon  it ;  and  that's  what  frightens  me  !  "  said  the  timid 
dressmaker,  wiping  her  eyes. 

"We  don't  know  any  thing  about  that:  it's  the 
Lord's  business,"  said  the  milliner,  in  a  rebuking 
whisper ;  for  no  one  ventured  to  speak  aloud. 

"  Well,  the  Lord  doesn't  willingly  afflict  the  children 
of  men  ;  I  pin  my  faith  on  that,"  said  Mrs.  Crabtree 
with  an  outburst  of  sunn}'  piety,  clouded  immediately 
by  the  darker  views  of  Mrs.  Putnam,  who  reminded 
her  that  the  Lord  moves  in  a  mysterious  way.  "  Didn't 
he  allow  Lincoln  to  be  assassinated,  and  Garfield?  " 

Here  Miss  Wilder 's  voice  sounded  in  the  hall,  as  she 
rushed  in,  in  advance  of  Mr.  Kirke.  No  one  had  ever 
seen  her  face  otherwise  than  colorless  before  ;  but  now 


DRONES'  HONEY.  l6l 

it  was  deeply  flushed,  even  to  the  eyeballs,  which 
seemed  on  fire  with  inward  heat. 

"What  is  it?  Where  is  she?  "she  cried.  "Get 
me  the  box."  And  on  she  sped  breathless  through  the 
crowd,  which  made  way  for  her;  and  reaching  the 
mantel,  on  which  stood  the  little  box  of  powders,  she 
seized  upon  the  box  in  a  sort  of  fury.  "Gray  powders, 
white  powders  ;  look  quick,  Mr.  Kirke,  for  Heaven's 
sake,  quick.  Is  there  a  gray  powder  in  that  box?" 

She  spoke  with  great  difficulty,  her  hand  pressed 
upon  her  side.  Mr.  Kirke  opened  the  papers  one  by 
one  ;  there  were  three  of  them,  of  equal  size.  "  These 
are  all  white,"  applying  one  to  his  tongue;  "I  think 
they  are  calomel." 

"Then  I  gave  her  the  atropine,"  gasped  Theodate 
with  a  dry  sob,  clutching  Mr.  Kirke  fiercely  by  the  arm. 
"  I  have  killed  her !  I'm  a  murderer  !  I've  killed  her !" 

"Hush,  child.  There,  there;  hush,  child.  Who 
knows  but  we  can  save  her  yet  ? ' '  said  Mr.  Kirke 
soothingly. 

He  understood  it  all.  She  had  explained  on  their 
way  home  that  a  paper  of  atropine  had  been  lying 
on  the  cupboard  shelf,  from  which  she  sometimes  gave 
Evelyn  minute  doses  ;  and  to-night  she  had  inadvertently 
taken  up  the  atropine  first,  but  immediately  returned 
it,  as  she  supposed,  to  the  shelf.  She  remembered  her 
own  agitation,  her  impatience  to  be  gone  ;  no  doubt,  in 
her  haste,  she  had  put  the  atropine  into  the  box, — there 
must  have  been  at  least  half  a  grain  of  it,  —  and  out 
of  the  four  papers  lying  there,  Evelyn  had  chosen  the 
fatal  one.  Theodate  was  aware  of  the  deadly  nature 
of  the  drug ;  she  knew  there  was  small  hope  of  the 
dear  girl's  life. 


1 62  DRONES'   HONEY. 


XIV. 

"  The  less  hope,  the  more  faith." 

KlNGSLET. 

"  The  greatest  prayer  is  patience" 

BUDDHA. 

rpHEODATE  flew  up-stairs  with  Mr.  Kirke.  Thank 
J-  God,  there  was  a  sound  of  breathing  yet !  With 
a  cry  of,  "  Oh,  my  love,  my  blessed  dear !  "  she  threw 
herself  on  the  bed  beside  her  friend,  clasping  her  with 
both  arms,  and  pressing  her  hot  face  against  the  sense 
less  cheek. 

Yet  she  lost  not  a  word  or  motion  of  the  dark  group 
about  the  bed.  She  heard  Mr.  Kirke's  word  "bella 
donna,"  and  the  doctor's  rapid  question,  "Do  you 
know  what  you  say?  " 

41  Yes  ;  have  you  tried  the  antidote,  morphine?  " 

44  No,  good  heavens  !  I've  been  working  in  the  dark. 
Is  there  morphine  in  the  house,  liquid  morphine?  " 

"•There  is,"  replied  Miss  Wilder,  flying  out  of  the 
room  and  returning  with  a  little  phial,  thankful  for 
once  that  the  end  cupboard  contained  a  murderous  drug. 
There  was  silence  as  Dr.  Stone  carefully  measured  out 
a  portion  of  the  liquid  into  the  tiny  silver  syringe  and 
applied  it  to  her  arm.  Then  in  an  excited  tone  to  Mr. 
Kirke,  — 

41  If   my  stomach-pump  had   only   been    in   order ! 


DRONES'  HONEY.  163 

I  depend  on  Dr.  Cargill  to  bring  one ;  and  I  give  him 
half  an  hour,  from  the  start,  to  get  here." 

' ;  And  what  if  he  should  fail  us  ?  "  thought  Theodate, 
her  glance  sweeping  by  Dr.  Stone,  and  resting  with 
fearful  eagerness  upon  Mr.  Kirke.  The  young  man 
was  gazing  intently  at  the  mute  figure  hovering  uncon 
sciously  between  the  two  worlds.  His  expression  was 
one  of  deep  solemnity  and  awe  ;  but,  beyond  that,  Theo 
date  could  read  nothing.  His  face  was  on  guard,  and 
evidently  he  did  not  mean  to  meet  her  eye.  But  even 
from  this  very  neutrality  and  reticence,  Theodate  gath 
ered  a  faint  hope. 

"  All  is  not  over,  or  he  would  give  some  sign.  He 
could  not  look  like  that,  for  he  loves  her,"  she  thought. 

"  Brandy,"  said  Dr.  Stone,  in  a  low,  sharp  tone. 

And  aunt  Ann,  with  steady  hand,  refilled  the  tiny 
syringe ;  then  resumed  the  monotonous  motion  of  the 
fan.  Not  for  an  instant  had  she  or  her  husband  or 
the  doctor  remitted  their  arduous  efforts ;  yet  Dr. 
Stone,  who  stood  sentinel  over  the  patient's  pulse, 
could  see  no  improvement. 

"A  little  quieter  just  now,  breathing  easier,"  had 
been  the  answer  once .  or  twice  to  the  messengers  who 
came  to  the  door.  But  there  was  despair  in  Dr.  Stone's 
eye,  as  he  motioned  Mr.  Kirke  to  come  forward  and 
apply  his  finger  to  the  delicate  wrist.  It  was  then, 
perhaps,  that  the  full  terror  of  the  situation  was  re 
vealed  to  the  young  man.  How  could  blood  course 
through  mortal  veins  with  such  terrible  speed  ?  It  was 
like  the  mad  rush  of  a  swollen  cataract,  like  the  incon 
ceivable  velocity  of  globes  of  fire-mist  whirling  through 
space.  And  then  suddenly,  without  the  slightest  warn- 


1 64  DROXES*  HONEY. 

ing,  the  infuriated  tide  would  come  to  a  dead  stop, 
freezing  his  heart  with  terror  ;  till  just  as  suddenly  it 
would  begin  again  its  frightful  race.  The  speed  was 
actually  increasing,  the  respiration  growing  less  fre 
quent,  unconsciousness  more  profound,  the  face  assum 
ing  a  deeper  hue  of  purple. 

"  Is  there  a  chance?"  asked  the  doctor,  turning  to 
his  student  with  an  appealing  look  which  would  have 
been  absurd  at  a  less  serious  moment,  but  was  now 
appalling,  as  it  implied  that  his  own  skill  was  ex 
hausted,  and  all  hope  gone  unless  this  young  tyro, 
who  had  not  yet  learned  the  alphabet  of  medical  sci 
ence,  might  perchance  by  a  lucky  hit  evolve  some 
scheme  for  saving  the  dying  girl. 

For  a  second  Mr.  Kirke  stood  speechless,  while  the 
eyes  of  all  the  four  attendants  were  fastened  upon 
him  by  a  common  impulse,  as  if  on  his  untried  skill, 
his  mere  mother-wit,  hung  the  momentous  issue.  "  Try 
oxygen,"  said  he  tentatively. 

"Oxygen?  " 

"  Yes.  I  brought  a  rubber  bag  of  it  to  your  office 
yesterday,  ready  for  use.  Shall  I  go,  or  you?  " 

"  I.  Do  you  take  my  place,"  exclaimed  the  doctor 
with  a  flash  of  reviving  hope,  and  hurried  down-stairs 
to  his  gig. 

It  was  easier  to  go  than  to  stay. 

After  this,  until  his  return,  the  minutes  were  hours. 
Theodate  held  the  fan,  and  waved  it  incessantly, 
though  scarcely  taking  her  eyes  from  the  little  lever- 
clock  on  the  mantel,  whose  minute  hand  seemed  par 
tially  paralyzed,  scarcely  able  to  creep  around  its 
narrow  circle. 


DRONES'  HONEY.  165 

The  storm  had  ceased ;  the  moon  was  breaking 
through  the  clouds,  and  now  looked  in  at  the  window 
dispassionatel}7,  like  the  Brahmin's  god,  to  whom  life 
and  death  are  equal.  Mr.  Kirke  had  assumed  Dr. 
Stone's  place,  holding  the  same  strict  watch  over  the 
patient's  pulse,  —  as  if  watching  could  avail !  —  and 
uttering  no  word  beyond  the  occasional  demand  for 
brandy  or  morphine.  What  were  his  thoughts,  none 
could  tell.  But  once  or  twice  a  convulsive  shudder 
crept  over  him  ;  and  great  beaded  drops  gathered,  and 
fell  unheeded  from  his  brow. 

In  the  deep,  awful  hush  of  that  room,  God  knew 
that  every  breath  of  those  waiting  friends  was  a 
fervent  prayer.  In  Benjamin  Kirke's  soul,  the  prayer 
took  the  form  of  a  vow:  "  Strong  Son  of  God,  im 
mortal  Love,  give  back  this  waning  breath,  and  I  vow 
my  life  to  thee." 

"  Be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner,"  implored  Theodate, 
with  the  anguish  of  unspeakable  remorse. 

If  Evelyn  should  die,  could  she,  a  murderer,  permit 
herself  to  live?  She  thought  of  the  stern  old  Romans, 
who  had  not  scrupled  to  seek  death  for  a  far  lighter 
cause  than  hers  wo-\ld  be  ;  and  then  she  rebelled  wildly 
against  the  Christianity  which  would  not  permit  her 
to  court  the  same  relief. 

The  sound  of  wheels  broke  the  silence. 

Dr.  Cargill  entered  the  chamber  with  a  delusive  look 
of  wisdom  which  gave  a  moment's  hope.  But,  alas, 
he  had  not  brought  the  expected  instrument !  He  had 
come  all  the  wajr  from  Latium  to  say  that  it  was 
broken,  and  that  he  did  not  know  what  could  possibly 
be  done  without  it. 


1 66  DRONES'  HONEY. 

He  was  deeply  regretful,  adjusted  his  spectacles 
thoughtfully,  looked  at  the  patient,  and,  not  forget 
ting  to  be  technical,  pronounced  the  deep  color  "  cya- 
notic ; "  but  this,  which  was  all  he  could  do,  was 
but  idle  mockery  to  the  watchers  by  that  bed.  And 
Theodate,  in  the  midst  of  her  anguish,  was  stirred  by  a 
dull  feeling  of  impatience  and  contempt. 

Yet  the  man  was  certainly  not  to  blame.  He  fell  in 
at  once  with  the  idea  of  the  oxygen  experiment.  It 
was  worth  trying,  he  said ;  though,  as  a  conscientious 
physician,  he  would  hold  out  no  assurance  of  success. 

By  the  time  Dr.  Stone  returned  with  the  apparatus, 
Evelyn's  respirations  were  only  four  to  the  minute. 
She  was  so  evidently  sinking  that  the  two  physicians 
exchanged  solemn  glances,  which  seemed  to  say,  "  It 
is  a  foregone  conclusion ;  still  we  will  administer  the 
oxygen,  to  satisfy  the  friends." 

"  How  long  will  it  be  before  we  can  see  any  effect?  " 
asked  Theodate ;  her  glance,  as  usual,  ignoring  the 
doctors  and  resting  on  Mr.  Kirke. 

"At  least  an  hour,"  was  his  repby. 

Theodate  hurried  out  of  the  room.  She  could  bear 
this  slow  torture  no  longer.  On  the  stairs  she  found 
Rosa,  who  was  hysterical  unless  kept  busy,  and  ap 
pointed  her  a  messenger  to  hear  and  report  every  five 
minutes  the  progress  of  the  experiment. 

"No  worse,  a  bit  better,"  were  the  bulletins. 
Later:  "  They  can't  tell  till  midnight.  If  she's  alive 
then  "  —  And  again  the  girl  broke  into  wild  laughter. 

Midnight  came  at  last.  Theodate  had  been  stand 
ing  in  the  hall  a  quarter  of  an  hour  watching  the  tall 
eight-day  clock,  which  had  always  seemed  like  a  living 


DRONES'  HONEY.  l6/ 

presence  in  the  house,  and  which  Evelyn  wound  every 
Sunday  morning  as  regularly  as  the  morning  came. 
To-day,  perhaps  for  the  first  time  since  her  father's 
death,  she  had  forgotten  her  task ;  and,  though  the 
ticking  of  the  clock  still  went  on,  it  was  growing  every 
moment  fainter,  —  or  was  this  Theodate's  fancy  ?  And 
now  on  the  stroke  of  twelve  it  hesitated,  caught  its 
breath,  seemed  undecided  whether  to  finish  ringing  out 
the  hour  or  to  relapse  into  silence.  Theodate  listened 
with  a  superstitious  thrill.  "If  it  stops  now,  there  is 
no  hope  for  Evelyn,"  she  said  to  herself,  and  began 
with  nervous  haste  to  wind  up  the  striking-weight. 
The  faithful  old  clock  rallied,  new  life  inspired  its 
lungs  ;  and  clearly,  distinctly,  with  no  uncertain  sound, 
it  rang  out  nine,  ten,  eleven,  twelve,  every  note  a  peal 
of  joy  to  Theodate's  heart. 

"Alive  yet,  but  very  weak.  If  she  can  possibly 
survive  till  two  o'clock,  we  may  hope,"  was  now  the 
message  from  little  Rosa,  too  worn  out  and  perplexed 
for  either  laughter  or  tears. 

Hope  !  "  Despair  is  a  free  man,  Hope  is  a  slave," 
says  the  Koran,  that  strange  medley  of  Judaism  and 
Christianity  :  meaning  probably  that  real  Despair  is  not 
tortured  by  fluctuations,  but  lies  stern  and  silent  in  the 
darkness ;  while  Hope  creeps  in,  timid  and  faltering, 
afraid  of  its  own  shadow. 

Theodate  went  up-stairs  now,  dragging  the  chain  of 
Hope.  Still  that  group  of  waiting  figures  about  the 
bed,  silent  save  when  some  low  order  was  issued  by 
one  of  the  doctors.  Two  o'clock. 

"  Alive  yet,  thanks  to  the  Searle  constitution,"  cried 
Dr.  Stone  radiantly. 


1 68  DRONES'  HONEY. 

"  She  has  a  nature  of  extraordinarily  high  potency, 
or  it  would  not  have  responded  so  readily,"  said  Dr. 
Cargill,  indulging  himself  in  grand  words,  which  irri 
tated  nobody,  for  nobody  listened. 

All  were  watching  the  patient.  Her  respiration  was 
almost  normal  now,  her  natural  color  gradually  return 
ing.  She  made  an  ineffectual  effort  to  open  her  eyes, 
and  soon  fell  into  a  quiet,  refreshing  slumber. 

"  Please  the  Lord,  she's  going  to  pull  through," 
said  Mrs.  Crabtree,  who  stood  by  the  kitchen  table 
pouring  her  husband  a  cup  of  coffee,  with  something 
that  almost  dared  to  be  a  smile.  But  the  next  bulletin 
was  less  favorable.  "•  Be  not  too  sanguine,"  said  Dr. 
Stone,  appearing  in  the  kitchen  at  three  o'clock  for  a 
little  needed  refreshment.  '"She  has  had  a  sinking 
attack  quite  unexpectedly,  and  another  may  occur  and 
prove  fatal." 

From  that  time  till  five,  however,  the  news  was  inva 
riably  good.  Iii  another  half  hour  she  had  moaned,  — 
joyful  sound  from  lips  that  seemed  closed  forever,  —  had 
fully  opened  her  eyes  and  gazed  around.  Life  and 
partial  consciousness  were  returning  to  the  benumbed 
brain ;  and  Dr.  Stone  called  Miss  Wilder  out  of  the 
room,  and  announced  to  her  with  much  feeling  that 
Evelyn  was  now  out  of  danger. 

"That  is,  with  proper  care,"  he  added  cautiously, 
as  if  that  could  dishearten  Theodate,  or  as  if  she 
needed  to  be  reminded  of  her  duty. 

She  made  no  reply  to  the  doctor  in  words ;  but  her 
eloquent  face  said  plainly  enough,  — 

"  Don't  yon  know  I  would  lay  down  my  life  for  my 
friend  ?  Have  you  lost  faith  in  me  because  of  my  care- 


DROA7ES'  HONEY.  169 

lessness?  Then  so  be  it,  good  sir;  but  my  own  con 
science  stabs  deeper  than  your  words." 

"  Don't  let  her  be  excited.  Don't  tell  her  of  the 
belladonna.  Lie  to  her,  if  necessary,  but  keep  her 
calm." 

It  may  be  that  Dr.  Stone  was  not  unwilling  to  lecture 
Miss  Wilder.  He  had  always  considered  her  rather 
"strong-minded;"  and  it  is  possible,  too,  that  he 
owed  her  a  grudge  for  her  slighting  opinion  of  his 
medical  skill. 

"  I  will  remember,"  said  Theodate,  her  eyes  sinking 
under  his  glance. 

The  neighbors  all  went  to  their  several  homes,  rejoi 
cing  ;  and  aunt  Ann,  with  the  help  of  the  joyful  and 
partially  sane  Rosa,  had  prepared  an  early  breakfast 
for  the  family. 

Theodate  went  back  to  the  chamber  to  summon  Mr. 
Searle  and  Mr.  Kirke ;  but  the  latter  would  not  leave 
his  post  beside  the  patient,  who  had  fallen  again  into  a 
natural  sleep. 

"  Very  well,"  replied  Theodate,  dropping  into  a  chair 
by  the  window. 

He  had  certainly  saved  Evelyn's  life ;  and,  if  he 
wished  to  be  the  first  person  she  should  see  on  awaken 
ing,  who  could  wonder  at  it  or  deny  him  the  privilege? 
Not  Theodate,  humbled  as  she  was  by  remorse. 

"  He  would  stand  all  day  with  that  ecstatic  look 
on  his  face,  and  never  know  he  was  tired  ;  and  yet  he 
is  no  happier  than  I.  That  is  impossible.  If  I  ever 
forget  the  mercies  of  this  night,  may  the  Father  above 
forget  me  !  ' ' 

The   sleeper  stirred  slightly.      At   that   moment   it 


170  DRONES"  HONEY. 

occurred  to  Theodate  that  Mr.  Kirke  should  have  been 
sent  away.  How  disastrous  it  might  be  if  Evelyn 
should  waken  to  her  full  reason  and  find  him  there ! 
But  it  was  too  late  now.  She  had  opened  her  eyes, 
blazing  with  unearthly  splendor,  but  full  of  a  strange 
pathos  impossible  to  describe.  It  was  almost  like  the 
startled,  hunted  look  of  some  beautiful  wild  creature 
pursued  by  its  enemies.  She  gazed  first  at  Mr.  Kirke 
in  surprised  recognition,  as  if  vaguely  wondering  how 
he  happened  there,  though  hardly  caring  to  know.  And 
Theodate,  why  was  she  sitting  in  that  chair,  looking 
like  a  phantom  in  a  dream  ? 

It  was  of  no  importance,  however.  Phantoms  are 
not  worth  regarding.  All  one  has  to  do  is  to  close 
one's  eyes,  and  they  will  quietly  steal  away.  Nothing 
was  of  real  interest  to  Evelyn  except  a  peculiar  sensa 
tion  of  dryness  in  her  tongue,  a  most  absorbing  experi 
ence.  It  seemed  to  fill  her  whole  being,  and  leave  no 
room  for  any  other  thought  or  emotion.  Possibly 
there  was  a  remedy,  if  she  could  only  think  what  it  was. 

Yes,  she  remembered  now  :  it  was  water.  It  would 
be  a  great  effort  to  speak  the  word,  but  she  must 
try.  Instantly,  as  her  lips  began  to  move,  Mr.  Kirke 
had  raised  her  head  with  the  utmost  gentleness,  and 
was  bending  over  her  with  a  glass  of  cold  water, 
fresh  from  the  ancestral  well.  Nothing  was  ever  like 
it.  Was  it  gold  and  silver  and  diamonds,  all  fused 
together  in  one  delicious  draught?  Or  did  it  come 
straight  from  the  Pierian  Spring?  Only  there  was  not 
enough  of  it ;  there  never  could  be  enough.  Though 
all  the  precious  things  in  the  world  should  flow  forever 
over  her  tongue,  still  she  should  forever  thirst. 


DRONES'  HONEY.  171 

She  thought  she  would  say  this  to  Mr.  Kirke,  it  was 
something  so  very  strange  ;  and  then  it  occurred  to  her 
that  it  would  be  unkind.  He  had  probably  taken  infi 
nite  pains  to  provide  a  nectar  worthy  of  the  gods  ;  and, 
unsatisfactory  though  it  was,  she  must  be  grateful. 

"Thank  you,"  said  she,  looking  up  at  him,  and 
summoning  a  smile  which  would  have  repaid  him  a 
thousand-fold  if  he  had  dissolved- his  whole  fortune  for 
her  in  that  brimming  glass. 

"It  is  good,"  said  she  sweetly;  and  then  truth, 
crushed  to  earth,  rose  again,  as  she  added  with  a  piteous 
sigh,  — 

"But  it  does  no  good.  I  want  it  always,  —  more, 
more,  more !  " 

Theodate  came  forward  now ;  she  could  not  help  it. 
But  Mr.  Kirke  need  not  have  held  up  a  warning  finger. 
She  knew  enough  to  keep  back  the  tide  of  joy  from 
her  face ;  she  could  manage  her  looks  at  least  as  well 
as  he  did,  —  the  beaming,  blissful,  beatified  wretch ! 
She  spoke  to  Evelyn  calmly,  almost  plaj*f ully ;  kissed 
her  cheek,  drew  up  the  silken  coverlet,  and  smoothed 
the  sheet  over  it. 

"  Good-morning,  dear.  I  hope  you  have  slept  well. 
Aunt  Ann  would  insist  upon  coming  up  here  to  get 
breakfast,  so  Mr.  Kirke  is  going  down  now  to  eat  it." 

It  was  the  first  thing  that  occurred  to  her  to  say ; 
but  Evelyn  revolved  it  in  her  mind,  after  they  were 
alone  together,  in  a  bewildrcd  way.  This  was  not  a 
dream.  She  was  quite  sure  Theodate  could  not  caress 
her  cheek  with  that  palpable  touch  in  a  dream.  No  ; 
nor  would  her  hand  tremble  so,  and  feel  so  cold. 

"  Aunt  Ann  —  breakfast  —  I  don't  understand." 


172  DRONES'  HONEY. 

"  I  believe  Rosa  did  not  sleep  quite  well :  you  know 
Rosa  is  a  queer  child." 

Evelyn  was  looking  her  friend  full  in  the  face  now, 
and  there  was  the  clear  light  of  reason  in  her  resplend 
ent  eyes. 

"  O  Theodate,  I  have  been  ill !  " 

"We  thought  so  at  one  time,  Evelyn.  Yes,  you 
did  seem  ill.  I  fancy  you  had  bad  dreams.  But  you 
are  better  now ;  and,  if  }'ou  want  to  please  me,  you'll 
go  to  sleep.  Won't  yon  try,  dear?  " 

"  I  think  I  can  never  sleep  again,"  replied  Evelyn, 
looking  restlessly  about  the  room. 

Where  was  the  glass  of  water  that  had  tantalized 
her  so? 

"  Oh,  thank  yon,  Theodate,  thank  you !  "  said  she, 
feeling  like  the  baked  earth  in  a  drought,  but  little 
better  for  the  rain. 

And  then  her  troubled  eyes  rested  longingly  upon  her 
favorite  picture,  which  hung  on  the  wall  at  the  foot  of 
the  bed ;  a  deep  leafy  forest,  with  harts  slaking  their 
thirst  at  a  brook  among  the  cool  shadows.  Would 
that  she,  too,  could  flee  away  and  drink  forever  at  that 
running  stream ! 

"An  empress,  too,"  she  murmured ;  "unhappy  crea 
ture, —  drinking,  drinking,  drinking." 

"  Evelyn,  those  are  deer.  Look,  and  try  to  remem 
ber." 

The  pathetic  tone  aroused  her. 

"Oh,  yes!  Ton  painted  that  from  a  copy  of  the 
picture  in  the  chapel  tomb  of  Galla  Placidia.  Still, 
she  was  an  empress,"  said  Evelyn,  rationally  enough. 

But  next  moment  she  was  talking  with  strong  ex- 


DRONES'  HONEY.  173 

citement  and  wild  gestures  about  the  silver-mounted 
horses,  and  the  chariots  full  of  people,  that  passed  in 
review  before  her  eyes. 

44  Why  do  they  come  and  come?  Look  at  me,  Theo- 
date.  Don't  you  see  I  am  not  delirious?  " 

44  Oh,  any  thing  but  that!  "  said  Theodate  re-assur- 


"But  what  does  it  mean?  I  was  never  like  this 
before,  —  to  see  visions  coming  like  panoramas.  But 
I  am  not  cheated  by  them.  I  can  read  between  the 
lines.  Do  you  know,"  looking  around  fearfully,  44it 
does  seem  as  if  something  has  happened  to  me  since  — 
since  —  What  made  you  go  away  in  the  rain,  Theo 
date?" 

44  What,  indeed?  How  it  did  pour  last  night,  Eve 
lyn!" 

44  Was  it  last  night?  And  you  say  I  was  not  ill?  I 
believe  you,  of  course.  How  could  I  doubt  you,  Theo 
date,  of  all  the  world?  " 


1/4  DRONES'  HONEY. 


XV. 


"A  murd'rous  f/vilt  shows  not  itself  more  soon 
Than  love  that  would  seem  hid." 

gUAKSPEARE. 

ON  the  second  day  Evelyn  was  calmer.  She  felt 
quite  well,  she  said,  though  evidently  depressed, 
and  was  able  to  go  down-stairs  and  sit  in  the  easy- 
chair  by  the  parlor  window.  Theoclate  had  hardly  left 
her  side  since  Monday  morning,  and  looked  strangely 
wan  and  worn,  as  if  years  had  passed  over  her  instead 
of  hours. 

"  It  refreshes  me  to  get  into  our  little  world  again, 
where  every  thing  goes  on  in  the  old  way,"  said 
Evelyn  with  a  sigh  of  content.  "  It  hasn't  seemed 
natural,  Theodate,  your  sitting  up-stairs  without  your 
work,  and  waiting  upon  me  so,  when  I'm  quite  well, 
—  all  but  this  odd  feeling,"  she  added. 

She  looked  disturbed  whenever  she  alluded  to  the 
"  odd  feeling." 

"  Oh,  why  can't  I  tell  her  the  truth,  when  I  know  it 
would  be  the  safer  and  wiser  way?"  thought  Theo 
date.  "It  is  part  of  my  punishment  that  I  must  obey 
the  orders  of  a  doctor  who  does  not  know  how  to  deal 
with  the  minds  of  his  patients  any  more  than  their 
bodies.  But  here  he  comes  now  :  I  will  not  see  him." 

He  dropped  in  by  chance,  so  he  said ;   but  as  the 


DROArES'  HONEY.  1/5 

same  chance  had  occurred  twice  37este/day,  and  he 
was  not  in  general  a  social  man,  Evelyn  looked 
thoughtful. 

"Oh,  yes,  doctor,  I  am  well,  strangely  well!  But 
something,"  here  she  lowered  her  voice  tragically, 
44  something  has  happened  to  me.  Let  me  ask  you 
about  it  before  Theodate  comes  back." 

44  Tut,  tut !     Don't  be  nervous,  my  child." 

44  But,  doctor,  when  I  woke  yesterday  morning,  I 
found  Theodate  and  Mr.  Kirke  both  watching  over 
me,  and  looking,  —  oh,  I  cannot  tell  you  how  they 
looked !  —  but  as  if  they  were  rejoicing,  as  if  —  O 
doctor,  there  were  certainly  tears  in  their  eyes !  Tell 
me,  what  had  happened?" 

44  Happened?  Nothing  that  I  have  heard  of,"  re 
plied  the  old  Jesuit,  with  a  conscience  void  of  offence. 
41  If  you  had  been  sick,  they  would  naturally  have  sent 
for  me,  wouldn't  they?  " 

"It  was  not  that,  doctor;  Theodate  assures  me  it 
was  not  that." 

She  hesitated,  and  averted  her  63*68.  How  could 
she  ask  him  if  he  had  ever  heard  of  a  case  of  insanity 
in  any  branch  of  her  family?  It  was  too  horrible. 
But  something  must  have  happened  to  her  during  that 
blank  in  her  life  last  Sunday  evening  after  she  went 
up-stairs, — something  which  nobody  was  willing  to 
speak  of.  Was  it  mere  unconsciousness?  She  had 
never  been  known  to  faint.  Was  it  delirium?  or,  oh, 
was  it  possibly  madness?  The  doctor  might  clear  up 
this  difficulty,  if  she  could  but  ask  the  simple,  dreadful 
question.  She  looked  out  of  the  window,  as  if  appeal 
ing  to  the  strength  of  the  hills,  and  saw  some  one 


1/6  DRONES'  HONEY. 

turning  in  at  the  path.  It  was  Mr.  Kirkc.  She  could 
not  have  spoken  another  word  now  ;  indeed,  she  was 
trembling  so  much  that  the  pink  fan  in  her  hand  shook 
visibly.  But  the  doctor  —  good,  undiscerning  soul  — 
saw  nothing  of  her  agitation,  congratulated  her  on 
looking  so  well,  and  told  Mr.  Kirke,  as  he  met  him 
on  the  piazza  in  going  out,  — 

"  Our  patient  is  all  right,  —  head  clear,  nerves  sound 
as  a  nut." 

Mr.  Kirke  chose  to  judge  for  himself ;  and  he  cer 
tainly  did  not  agree  with  the  doctor,  when  he  entered 
the  parlor,  and  "  our  patient "  rose  to  greet  him,  with 
a  strikingly  pale  face,  and  something  of  the  troubled 
splendor  of  yesterday  in  her  eyes. 

But  as  she  offered  him  her  hand  with  a  cordial,  "  I 
am  very  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Kirke,"  and  he  retained 
it  a  little  longer  than  usual,  finding  it  hard  to  let  it  go, 
her  pallor  gave  place  to  a  warm  flush  of  crimson  ;  and 
she  went  on  with  painful  agitation,  — 

"And  will  you  pardon  me  if  I  talk  to  you  rather 
unconventionally?  I  must  speak  to  some  one;  and 
Theodate  only  laughs,  and  the  doctor  calls  me  ner 
vous.  But  you  will  listen,  —  I  know  you  will,  —  and 
answer  me,  Mr.  Kirke?  " 

"With  all  my  heart,"  the  young  man  replied  ear 
nestly,  drawing  his  chair  near  hers  ;  but  it  is  not  to  be 
denied  that  he  felt  a  slight  chill  of  disappointment. 
He  had  been  greatly  elated  by  her  unusual  and  unre 
served  pleasure  in  meeting  him  ;  and  now  it  turned  out 
that  any  other  person  would  have  been  equally  welcome, 
any  one  who  would  listen  to  her  and  not  laugh. 

But  how  beautiful  she  was,  sitting  so  near  him,  with 


DRONES'  HONEY.  177 

the  tender  glow  of  the  evening  sky  illumining  her  face, 
—  that  face  on  which  the  shadow  of  the  long  night 
had  so  lately  almost  fallen  !  If  he  had  been  a  Roman 
ist,  he  could  easily  have  knelt  before  her,  as  before  a 
saint  called  back  from  the  gate  of  heaven.  He  under 
stood  now  this  invocation  of  the  saints ;  it  should  be 
henceforth  a  part  of  his  religion. 

"I  feel  so  uncertain  of  myself,"  said  Miss  Searle, 
clasping  and  unclasping  her  hands;  "perhaps  this 
matter  on  which  I  am  going  to  speak  is  rather  too  per 
sonal,  —  you  are  only  a  recent  friend,  Mr.  Kirke  ;  but 
you  have  been  so  good  to  us,  that  I  hardly  ever  think 
of  you  in  that  light.  I  forget  that  you  have  come  into 
our  life  so  lately:  it  seems  as  if  you  had  always  been 
here,  as  if  we  had  always  known  you." 

"  Thank  you  for  that,  Miss  Searle,  for  I  know  I 
originated  in  Narrausauc ;  my  first  incarnation  was 
here." 

She  laughed,  and  ventured  to  look  at  him.  "  At  any 
rate,  you  are  my  friend  and  Theodate's." 

"  Yes,  you  may  believe  that.  And  isn't  that  the  right 
sort  of  friendship,  into  which  one  can  carry  one's  whole 
nature  without  any  reserves?  If  you  hesitate  to  confide 
in  me,  I  shall  think  you  count  me  less  than  a  friend." 

"  Oh,  no,  Mr.  Kirke  !  It  is  only  because  I  fear  you 
may  not  understand." 

"  Try  me  and  see." 

"Well,  then,  for  the  past  few  daj'S," — her  voice 
faltered,  but  she  forced  herself  to  go  on, —  "for  the 
past  few  days  I  have  been  in  the  most  singular  frame 
of  mind,  Mr.  Kirke." 

A  smile  flickered  about  his  mouth.     He  thought  he 


178  DRONES'  HONEY. 

could  suspect,  now,  the  mighty  secret  she  was  hying 
to  reveal. 

"  It  has  seemed  to  me,  sometimes,  that  I  was  losing 
my  —  I  will  not  say  my  reason,  for  that  has  been  as 
clear  as  ever  —  but  the  control  of  my  reason.  I  am 
haunted  by  visions  of  ineffable  beauty ;  they  actually 
possess  me,  —  perhaps  I  should  say  obsess  me,  —  and  I 
can  no  more  dispel  them,  than  I  can  '  shoot  the  moon 
with  a  silver  arrow.'  ' 

"No?"  sympathetically. 

"  Think  of  my  will  so  powerless,  like  a  ship  sailing 
wild !  " 

"  Did  you  never  feel  in  this  way  before?  " 

"  Never."  She  paused,  waiting  for  her  voice  to 
grow  steadier.  It  was  delicate  in  Mr.  Kirke  not  to 
look  at  her,  she  thought.  "  I  bore  it  tolerably  yester 
day,  for  I  often  fell  asleep;  but  to-day  it  is  —  oh,  so 
wearisome !  " 

"  Are  the  visions  still  beautiful?  " 

"  Not  alwa3's." 

"  Grotesque,  perhaps?  " 

"Yes,  grotesque.  But  don't  speak  in  that  tone, 
Mr.  Kirke,  as  if  we  were  discussing  a  mere  question  in 
metaphysics.  Can't  you  understand  that  this  is  life 
or  death  to  me?  " 

"  My  dear  Miss  Searle  !  " 

"  Oh,  you  do  not  mean  to  be  light !  I  know  you  pity 
me ;  but,  consider,  what  does  it  signify  whether  I  see 
angels  or  demons,  when  both  are  signs  of  a  disordered 
brain,  when  I  am  just  as  powerless  over  one  as  the 
other?" 

He  would  have  interrupted  her,  but  she  went  on  with 
the  eloquence  of  despair. 


DROMES'  HONEY.  179 

"  Think  what  it  would  be  to  you,  Mr.  Kirke,  to  lose 
the  empire  of  your  mind,  yourself  dethroned,  and 
hordes  of  shadows,  mere  chaotic  shadows,  rushing  in 
wildly  to  take  control." 

"  But,  my  dear  girl !  " 

"  You,  a  rational  being,  at  the  mercy  of  an  army  of 
—  ghosts!  " 

44  Miss  Searle,  may  I  talk  to  }*ou,  and  try  to  relieve 
your  mind?  I  do  not  like  to  see  you  tremble  so,"  said 
he,  taking  her  hand  quietly  in  his  own. 

She  seemed  scarcely  aware  of  the  movement,  and 
suffered  it  to  lie  there ;  while  she  regarded  him  with 
anguish  in  her  face,  and  yet  a  dawning  hope. 

41  Oh,  did  you  ever  know  a  sane  person  afflicted  so 
before?" 

44  Certainly  ;  these  are  opium  fancies,  my  friend." 

44  Now  you  are  trifling  with  me,  Mr.  Kirke,  for  I 
never  took  a  particle  of  opium  in  my  life." 

4'  Begging  your  pardon,  Miss  Searle,  morphine  was 
given  you  last  Sunday  night." 

She  gazed  at  him  with  a  look  of  puzzled  terror. 
There  it  was  again,  that  mysterious  blank  in  her 
life. 

"  Oh,  I  must  know  about  that!  Tell  me  what  hap 
pened  Sunday  night." 

"I  will,"  he  replied  fearlessly,  determined  to  brave 
Dr.  Stone's  disapproval,  and  give  her  a  hint  of  the 
truth :  any  thing  must  be  better  than  this  groundless 
agony.  "  There  was  a  mistake  made  in  your  medicine, 
Miss  Searle ;  you  took  belladonna,  and  to  counteract 
it  morphine  was  required.  So  do  not  be  anxious 
another  moment.  Can't  you  see  for  yourself,  that,  with 


l8o  DRONES'  HONEY. 

both  those  drugs  playing  upon  your  brain,  3-011  would 
naturally  be  subject  to  hallucinations?  " 

"  O  Mr.  Kirke,  is  that  all,  is  that  positively  all?  "  she 
cried,  so  immensely  relieved  to  find  her  reason  safe, 
that  she  had  no  room  for  any  other  thought.  "  And  I 
shall  soon  be  myself  again  ?  ' ' 

Mr.  Kirke  felt  a  profound  satisfaction  in  watching 
the  happy  play  of  her  features,  and  seeing  the  frozen 
terror  melt  into  joy ;  though  at  the  same  moment  he 
lost  his  hold  upon  the  little  hand,  which  she  hastily 
withdrew  from  his  clasp,  in  some  confusion. 

"0  Mr.  Kirke,  if  you  had  not  told  me,  I  don't 
know  what  would  have  become  of  me  ;  it  was  very  kind 
of  you  to  tell  me.  But  Theodate"  — 

"  You  must  not  blame  her,"  he  broke  in,  wishing  to 
end  this  colloquy  as  soon  as  possible. 

"  Oh,  I  do  not  blame  her  !  It  was  kind  in  her  to  try 
to  shield  the  doctor.  It  was  rather  strange  the  doctor 
should  have  made  that  mistake;  don't  you  think  so? 
Belladonna,  did  you  say,  Mr.  Kirke  ?  Not  belladonna  ! 
Why,  it  might  have  killed  me  !  " 

She  uttered  the  words  without  emotion,  entirely  un 
conscious  that  she  was  speaking  the  literal  truth ;  but 
as  he  looked  into  her  dear,  living  face,  and  contrasted 
it  with  the  same  face  he  had  seen  on  that  fearful  night, 
as  senseless  as  the  pillow  it  pressed,  the  soul  gone  out 
of  it,  God  only  knowing  whether  it  would  ever  return, 
the  image  and  the  recollections  that  arose  with  it  were 
more  than  he  could  bear.  He  drew  a  deep,  shuddering 
breath,  exclaiming  involuntarily,  "Merciful  heavens! 
I  knew  then  how  I  loved  you." 

If  the  marble  Clytie  on  the  corner  bracket  had  broken 


DRONES'  HONEY.  181 

into  speech,  it  would  hardly  have  startled  Miss  Searle 
more  than  these  words  from  Mr.  Kirke,  who,  to  say 
the  truth,  was  quite  appalled  himself.  Of  the  making 
of  love,  like  the  making  of  books,  there  is  no  end, — 
nor  any  end  of  methods  and  devices :  but  surely  this 
could  not  be  called  love-making ;  this  outbreak  of  feel 
ing,  —  without  purpose  or  design,  —  this  merely  instinc 
tive  cry  of  the  soul.  If  any  one  had  warned  the  young 
man,  five  minutes  ago,  that  he  was  in  danger  of  such  an 
involuntary  disclosure,  he  would  not  have  believed  it. 

He  was  the  last  person  to  do  an  impulsive  thing ;  he 
was  slow,  cold,  deliberate,  not  like  that  fire-breathing 
Joe  Fiske,  thank  Heaven.  He  could  be  depended  upon 
to  weigh  a  sentiment  in  the  balance  of  judgment ;  and, 
if  he  should  ever  play  the  part  of  a  lover,  it  would 
be  that  of  a  philosophical  lover,  well-bred,  sedate, 
clear-headed ;  choosing  the  proper  time  and  season, 
and  by  no  means  making  the  fatal  mistake  of  speaking 
too  soon.  This  point  had  been  settled  long  ago.  He 
was  a  person  who  shrank  from  the  faintest  semblance 
of  repulse ;  he  must  be  sure  beyond  the  security  of 
other  men,  before  he  would  bend  his  proud  neck  to  the 
yoke. 

And  now,  what  had  he  done?  Why,  it  was  only 
yesterday  that  his  own  feelings  had  been  revealed  to 
him  ;  and  he  knew  no  more  about  Evelyn's  than  about 
the  politics  of  the  people  in  Sirius  ;  yet  here,  in  a  brief 
moment  of  madness,  he  had  staked  all  at  one  throw  of 
the  die ! 

If  Evelyn  had  looked  at  him,  which  of  course 
she  did  not,  she  would  have  seen  him  blushing  like  a 
girl,  and  dropping  his  head  in  his  hands. 


1 82  DRONES'  HONEY. 

She  could  not  have  spoken  ;  nor  was  there  any  thing 
to  be  said,  so  far  as  occurred  to  her.  He  had  asked 
no  question,  urged  no  claim,  made  no  plea ;  he  had 
simply  soliloquized  into  the  air. 

One  does  not  know  what  to  say  to  a  soliloquy,  or 
how  to  answer  a  question  that  has  not  been  asked  ;  and 
Mr.  Kirke  ought  to  have  understood  her  silence,  would 
have  understood  it  if  he  had  been  the  philosopher  he 
claimed  to  be.  It  was  downright  imbecility  to  fancy 
she  could  be  offended  with  him  for  making  a  bare 
statement  of  facts,  that  called  for  no  reply. 

Where  was  his  courage,  that  he  did  not  go  on  after 
this  bold  beginning,  and  draw  her  to  the  confessional, 
and  so  make  an  end  of  it,  like  a  sensible  man?  He 
was  not  especially  noted  for  humility  ;  what  was  there 
in  Evelyn  Searle  to  unnerve  him  like  one  "  chased  by 
the  sound  of  a  shaken  leaf  "  ? 

There  may  be  some  excuse  for  him  in  view  of  the 
stress  of  feeling  he  had  lately  undergone  ;  and  perhaps, 
too,  she  seemed  to  him  more  like  an  angel  brought 
back  from  the  portals  of  heaven,  than  like  a  mortal 
woman  to  be  wooed  and  won.  But  true  it  is  that 
there  he  sat,  speechless  and  shame-faced  ;  and  there 
sat  Evelyn,  regarding  the  moon,  quite  oblivious  of  her 
late  escape  from  death,  which  indeed  she  had  not 
comprehended  yet ;  and  there  they  might  both  have 
remained  to  this  day,  if  Theodate  had  not  come  in  and 
broken  the  spell. 

At  sight  of  her,  Evelyn  sprang  up  in  relief,  exclaim 
ing,  as  if  she  had  been  thinking  of  it  all  the  while, 
though  in  truth  it  had  quite  gone  out  of  her  mind  till 
that  moment,  — 


DRONES'  HONEY.  183 

"O  Theodate,  Mr.  Kirke  has  told  me  the  whole 
story,  about  the  belladonna  and  all ;  and  you  didn't 
mean  I  should  know." 

She  spoke  lightly,  in  her  ignorance,  and  was  not  pre 
pared  to  see  Theodate  grow  so  serious ;  nor  could 
she  in  the  least  understand  what  the  girl  meant  by 
clasping  her  arms  around  her  neck,  with  the  tragic 
cry,  — 

"  Say  this  minute  you  forgive  me,  dear." 

Did  she  refer  to  the  unaccountable  lies  she  had  been 
telling?  Lies  are  always  atrocious,  the  whitest  of  them  ; 
but  it  was  hardly  in  good  taste  to  make  a  scene  before 
Mr.  Kirke. 

"  Why,  Theodate,  don't,"  she  implored  with  her 
lovely,  comforting  smile.  "I  own  I  did  feel  a  little 
annoj'ed  once  or  twice ;  but  knowing  your  motives  — 
There,  there,  pray  don't — for  a  mere  trifle  like 
that!  " 

"Do  yon  call  murder  a  trifle?"  laughed  Theodate 
tearfully. 

Mr.  Kirke  interposed  :  "  You  perceive,  Miss  Wilder, 
I  omitted  some  of  the  particulars." 

"Oh,  of  course!  Why  didn't  I  think?  I  am  so 
obtuse." 

"  What  particulars,  Theodate?  " 

"  There,  I  shall  have  to  tell  her  now.  O  Evelyn, 
you'll  try  not  to  be  excited,  since  it's  all  so  happily 
over?  It  was  I  who  made  the  mistake  with  the  medi 
cine." 

"You?" 

' '  Yes, —  I,  Theodate  Wilder ;  not  the  doctor.  Dense 
as  he  is,  he  could  hardly  have  blundered  like  that." 


1 84  DRONES'  HONEY. 

"Oh,  well,  never  mind!"  replied  Evelyn  with  an 
other  smile,  bent  upon  solacing  Theodate,  who  seemed 
unduly  sensitive  over  a  small  affair.  "The  doctor 
gave  me  the  antidote,  and  that  made  it  all  right." 

"  What,  that  man?  Never!  Not  he  !  "  exclaimed 
Miss  Wilder  vehemently ;  "it  was  Mr.  Kirke  who 
saved  your  life." 

"  Oh,  was  it  like  that?  "  murmured  Evelyn,  a  shiver 
thrilling  through  her  whole  frame. 

She  looked  with  dilating  eyes  at  Mr.  Kirke.  She 
was  intensely,  thoroughly  alive  now,  grasping  the  truth 
at  last.  And  what  soul  would  not  be  filled  with  awe 
on  finding  it  had  drawn  so  near  the  borders  of  the 
unseen  world  without  a  moment's  warning  or  a  con 
scious  thought? 

" O  Father,  what  is  death?    We  sport  at  eve; 
A  playmate's  lips  grow  pale,  the  game  stands  still,— 
He  goes  away  in  silence." 

For  a  little  while  no  one  ventured  a  word.  Mr. 
Kirke  withdrew  somewhat  into  the  shade,  where  he 
could  watch  Evelyn  without  being  seen,  and  felt  in 
wardly  vexed  with  Miss  Wilder  for  her  ill-timed  confes 
sion.  On  general  principles  he  had  little  patience  with 
people  who  speak  unadvisedly  ! 

"And  I  did  not  know  it,"  Evelyn  was  saying  to 
herself.  "I  should  never  have  known  it  till  I  woke 
on  the  other  side." 

The  lace  curtains  stirred  in  a  light  breeze ;  some 
thing  in  the  aimless  motion  fixed  her  gaze.  She  re 
membered  how  those  same  curtains  had  stirred  while 
her  mother  lay  dying. 


DRONES'  HONEY.  185 

u  I  watched  them  theii ;  they  rose  and  fell  like  her 
breath.  She  went  away  in  silence,  my  blessed  mother  ; 
and  in  silence  I  was  going,  too.  How  strange  !  Yet  it 
is  the  way  we  all  must  go  some  day.  AVas  she  hover 
ing  over  me  ?  Should  I  have  seen  her  if  I  had  waked 
—  outside?" 

"  I  knew  then  how  I  loved  you."  Hush,  those  were 
not  her  mother's  words !  And  Evelyn  tried  to  think 
how  sometimes  during  the  past  year  she  had  almost 
longed  to  wake  "outside"  in  light  and  freedom, — 
where  she  should  see  that  angel  face  she  had  "  loved 
long  since  and  lost  awhile." 

And  now  that  she  had  been  so  near  the  joy,  was  she 
sorry  to  have  missed  it? 

No,  oh,  no !  She  was  too  young  for  that ;  life  was 
too  sweet. 

"• 1  knew  then  how  I  loved  you." 

Why  would  those  words  insist  upon  returning,  like 
a  ritouruelle?  They  were  absurdly  out  of  place  just 
now,  amid  her  solemn,  unspoken  thoughts  of  the  un 
known. 

Still,  was  love  ever  out  of  place?  How  could  it  be? 
What  has  one  to  look  to,  here  or  beyond,  but  love 
human  or  divine  ?  And  behold  a  devotion  all  new  to 
her,  a  sympathy  she  never  dreamed  of,  had  gone  side 
by  side  with  her  down  to  the  chill  ford ;  ay,  and  had 
called  her  back  as  her  feet  were  entering  the  dark 
waters. 

"  It  was  Mr.  Kirke  who  saved  your  life." 

Wonderful !  How  should  she  speak  her  gratitude  ? 
But  still  greater  was  the  wonder  of  his  love.  She 
could  not  choose  but  dwell  upon  it ;  though  she  had 


1 86  DRONES'  HONEY. 

no  thought  as  yet  of  what  it  might  involve  to  her  or 
him,  or  the  faiutest  sense  of  any  personal  responsi 
bility  in  the  matter. 

"•Evelyn,"  besought  Theodate,  "are  you  never 
going  to  speak  again?  After  all  the  trouble  you  have 
given  us,  you  bad  little  woman,  and  all  the  fright,  you 
might  at  least  say  something,  I  should  think." 

This  serio-comic  speech  aroused  Evelyn  from  her 
re very. 

"O  Theodate!"  bending  with  pity  and  contrition 
over  her  friend,  who  sat  on  an  ottoman  at  her  feet ; 
"O  Theodate,  how  you  have  suffered!  I  am  glad 
for  your  sake  that  I  lived." 

Theodate  answered  in  jest,  sternly  resolved  not  to  be 
tragic ;  and  Evelyn  recovered  herself,  and  tried  to  look 
as  if  poisoning  were  a  common  experience :  yet  for  all 
that  it  was  a  most  affecting  scene,  and  Mr.  Kirke  felt 
that  he  had  no  right  there  at  such  a  moment.  He  rose 
slowly  from  his  chair,  in  doubt  how  to  make  his  exit, 
when  Miss  Searle  extended  her  hand  to  him,  — 

"  Don't  go,  Mr.  Kirke.  You  wouldn't  go  till  I 
have  thanked  you  ?  ' ' 

Her  voice  was  indescribably  sweet ;  and  her  eyes 
blazed  out  radiant  with  a  light  that  fairly  dazzled  him, 
and  seemed  to  fill  the  very  room  with  ecstasy.  Was  it 
all  gratitude?  She  must  remember  the  bold  confession 
he  had  just  made :  had  it  offended  her,  if  she  could 
look  at  him  like  this? 

He  held  her  hand  in  a  lingering  clasp,  but  for  a 
moment  dared  not  trust  his  voice  to  speak.  He  must 
tear  himself  away  ;  to  stay  longer  now  was  hardly  the 
way  to  justify  her  good  opinion. 


DRONES'  HONEY.  1 87 

"  Good-night,  Miss  Searle.  Good-night,  Miss  Wild 
er.  May  I  call  again  to-morrow?  " 

And  only  waiting  for  another  enigmatical  look  from 
Evelyn,  he  was  gone. 

But  what  right  have  any  of  us  to  reckon  upon 
to-uaorrow  ? 


1 88  DRONES'  HONEY. 


XVI. 

"  The  Destinies  ride  their  horses  by  night." 


KORAN. 


"T  ET'S  see.  Your  name  is  Kirke,  Benjamin  Kirke? 
J-J  Yes,  I  thought  so.  Kind  of  lucky  you  happened 
over  here  in  the  nick  of  time  so,"  said  the  telegraph- 
operator,  looking  up  from  his  table,  and  speaking 
briskly  through  the  open  door.  He  knew  Mr.  Kirke 
perfectly  well,  having  received  several  telegrams  be 
fore  to  his  address  ;  but  this  was  an  important  one, 
and  he  was  glad  to  deliver  it  immediately.  Moreover, 
it  was  not  of  a  pleasant  nature ;  and,  being  a  kind- 
hearted  man,  he  liked  to  temporize  a  little  in  such 
cases.  It  was  not  at  all  surprising  that  Mr.  Kirke 
should  be  at  the  station  at  that  particular  moment ;  for 
he  often  strolled  in  on  his  way  to  the  doctor's  office, 
after  an  early  dinner,  finding  a  languid  interest  in 
watching  the  coming  in  and  going  out  of  the  trains, 
which  was  the  nearest  approach  to  excitement  of  any 
thing  the  little  town  afforded. 

The  telegraph-operator  put  his  pen  into  a  tin}'  hole 
in  the  inkstand,  partly  rose  from  his  chair,  with  one 
hand  pressed  upon  the  table,  and  seemed  to  expect 
Mr.  Kirke  to  come  forward  and  receive  the  despatch  ; 
which  he  did  most  promptly.  The  ink  was  hardly  dry 


DRONES'  HONEY.  189 

upon  it,  and  it  had  not  been  placed  in  an  envelope  or 
even  folded. 

CHICAGO,  Sept.  5. 
Father  very  ill.     Come  at  once. 

GEETKUDE  KIKKE. 

News  like  this  is  always  a  shock,  come  when  it  may  ; 
always,  for  the  moment,  incredible.  Yet  in  some  cases 
we  are  able  to  say,  upon  reflection,  "Wiry  should  it 
have  surprised  us  so  much,  after  all?  There  were 
reasons  why  it  was  to  be  anticipated."  But  no  one 
could  say  this  in  regard  to  such  news  from  Judge  Kirke. 
No  one  expected  any  thing  of  him,  but  health  and 
strength  and  length  of  da}7s.  He  had  never  been 
known  to  swerve  a  hair's-breadth  from  the  most  monot 
onous  well-being,  to  indulge  in  the  slightest  vagary  of 
the  nerves,  even  to  the  extent  of  a  mild  headache. 
Ben  would  as  soon  have  felt  anxious  about  the  Egyp 
tian  obelisk  as  about  his  adamantine  parent. 

He  read  the  despatch  three  times  before  he  actually 
had  faitli  in  it.  If  it  had  only  been  his  feeble  mother ! 
But  unless  the  wires  had  gone  mad,  it  certainly  was 
not  his  mother ;  and  it  must  be  admitted  that  this, 
even  in  his  real  distress,  was  a  distinct  relief.  He 
knew  his  mother's  life  hung  by  a  thread,  but  the 
snapping  of  that  thread  would  have  unmanned  him. 

He  respected  his  father,  and  had  a  certain  latent 
affection  for  him,  which  now  asserted  itself  with  entirely 
new  force;  yet  if  the  worst  should  come, — he  was 
very  sure  it  would  not,  yet  if  it  should, — and  his 
father  were  not  to  recover,  he  could  not  look  upon  it 
as  his  own  so  much  as  his  mother's  grief.  He  did  not 
think  of  himself  so  much  as  of  her. 


190  DRONES'  HONEY. 

Holding  that  message  in  his  hand,  and  still  poring 
over  it,  a  vivid  impression  came  to  him,  such  as  he  had 
never  had  before,  of  the  closeness  and  tenderness  of 
the  marriage  tie,  of  his  mother's  clinging  trust  in  her 
husband,  her  absolute  dependence  upon  him  ;  and  the 
thought  of  her  possible  widowhood  was  a  cruel  stab. 

"  She  will  turn  to  me  ;  I  will  be  her  support,"  thought 
lie,  longing  to  take  the  gentle  being  into  his  strong 
arms  that  moment,  and  shield  her  against  the  very 
fear  of  ill. 

He  looked  at  the  clock  on  the  wall.  It  was  usually 
wrong.  He  took  out  his  watch,  which  was  always 
right.  He  had  not  wasted  a  whole  minute  over  the 
despatch,  yet  there  were  not  six  minutes  to  spare  before 
train-time.  How  was  he  to  get  to  the  Druid,  collect 
his  effects,  and  prepare  for  a  journey  ?  It  was  not  to 
be  done.  But  here,  as  it  chanced,  were  the  landlord 
and  Tom  close  at  hand. 

Nothing  could  exceed  Mr.  Simpson's  devotion  to 
Tom,  whom  he  jolted  about  the  village  in  all  weathers, 
under  the  impression  that  fresh  air  was  a  panacea  for 
broken  limbs. 

Mr.  Kirke  went  out  to  them,  wallet  in  hand,  and 
made  known  the  emergency.  "•  You  would  not  have 
thought  I  had  run  away,  Mr.  Simpson,  if  you  had  not 
seen  me  again?" 

"You?  You?  Reckon  I  know  when  a  man's  to 
be  trusted,"  said  Mr.  Simpson,  pocketing  the  offered 
bank-notes  with  the  air  of  disdaining  this  substantial 
appeal  to  his  good  opinion.  "  I'm  sorry  enough  for 
your  bad  news,  though  ;  and  my  wife,  I  know  she'll 
cry  her  eyes  out  to  lose  you.  But  you'll  be  coming 
back  right  away,  I  hope?  '* 


DRONES'  HONEY.  191 

"  If  I  can,"  said  Mr.  Kirke  sincerely,  and  turned 
white  to  the  lips.  He  had  a  reason  for  wishing  to 
come  back,  a  strong  reason  ;  and  it  pressed  upon  him 
with  prodigious  force.  But  here  he  was,  involved  in 
an  inevitable  network  of  fate,  and  could  see  at  a 
glance  that  the  meshes  were  not  going  to  yield  to  his 
will.  They  would  soon  dissolve  of  their  own  accord  ; 
they  would  not  hold  him  long,  at  the  longest,  so  he 
hoped.  Yet  when  was  he  to  see  Evelyn  again?  When 
could  he  learn  from  her  own  lips  how  she  had  borne 
his  stupid  confession  of  last  night?  And  what  would 
she  think  of  his  flight? 

Wait,  he  would  send  her  the  telegram,  and  let  her 
see  for  herself  what  had  called  him  away.  Hastily 
enclosing  it  in  an  envelope,  with  a  pencilled  word  of 
good-by,  he  intrusted  it  to  Mr.  Simpson's  care. 

"  Keep  up  your  courage,  Tom.  I'll  see  you  again 
in  a  few  days,"  said  he,  stroking  the  poor  fellow's 
shoulder,  as  Tom  looked  up  at  him  beseechingly. 

Wasn't  there  something  he  could  do  for  Mr.  Kirke, 
some  little  thing?  He'd  got  so  kind  of  used  to  him, 
and  knew  where  his  things  were,  and  all. 

"  Yes,  I'll  tell  you,  Tom,  what  you  can  do.  You 
know  there's  an  old  wreath  in  my  room,  on  the  wall, 
and  I  happen  to  have  a  fancy  for  it.  Just  box  it  up 
carefully,  will  you?  " 

"  And  send  it  after  JTOU,  sir?  " 

"  Oh,  no  ;  merely  to  save  it  from  Nancy's  broom  !  I 
expect  to  be  back  before  long.  And  the  machine, 
Tom,  that's  yours  for  kindling-wood  ;  or,  stay,  you 
can  sell  it  to  that  tinman,  Andrew ;  I  find  he's  sim 
pleton  enough  to  want  it." 


1 92  DRONES'  HONEY. 

"  What,  not  leaving  us,  Mr.  Kirke?"  said  one  and 
another  of  the  men  about  the  station,  with  an  appear 
ance  of  regret.  The  Latium  driver  left  his  horses,  to 
advance  and  shake  hands,  and  hoped  they  should  see 
him  back  again  soon.  It  was  evident  that  the}*  had 
all  come  to  look  upon  Mr.  Kirke  as  a  resident. 

The  whistle  sounded.  "  Good-by,  Tom.  Good-by, 
Mr.  Simpson.  My  regards  to  your  good  wife." 

"  Well,  well,  but  she'll  cry  her  eyes  out,"  repeated 
the  old  gentleman  benevolently,  with  a  parting  wave 
of  his  bandanna,  feeling  that  he  had  paid  the  }Toung 
man  the  highest  of  compliments,  and  hoping  it  would 
cheer  him  on  his  way. 

And  so  Benjamin  Kirke  was  turning  his  back  upon 
Narransauc  in  this  abrupt  fashion  ;  and  hours  might 
pass  before  the  people  at  Violet  Hill  would  hear  of  it. 

The  last  face  he  saw  at  the  station  was  that  of 
Jimmy  Skillings,  who  wistfully  threw  a  bunch  of  pan- 
sies  into  the  window.  In  response  to  the  gift,  Mr. 
Kirke  cast  a  silver  dollar  toward  the  donor,  pretty  sure 
he  would  pick  it  up  wherever  it  might  chance  to  fall. 
He  felt  a  certain  attraction  toward  the  little  ragamuffin, 
as  Miss  Searle's  protege;  and  besides,  if  the  pausies 
came  from  her  garden,  as  he  had  good  reason  to  sup 
pose,  they  were  low  at  any  price. 

"  He  is  the  roughest  little  gamin  living;  but  Evelyn 
seems  to  doat  on  him,  as  she  does  on  '  all  things,  both 
great  and  small,  which  suffer  life,'  "  said  he,  placing 
the  pausies  reverently  in  the  buttonhole  of  his  coat,  and 
looking  back  at  the  village  whose  outlines  were  slightly 
blurred  in  a  September  haze.  Was  it  becoming  a  little 
nebulous  already,  this  strangely  quiet,  dull  village, 


DROA'ES'  HONEY.  193 

whose  inhabitants  seemed  to  live  the  dreamy  life  of 
memory  ?  As  the  train  passed  a  bend  in  the  river,  a 
bird  sailing  overhead  cast  upon  the  smooth  water  so 
clear  an  image  of  itself,  that  he  queried  for  a  moment 
whether  there  were  two  birds  or  only  one. 

And  next  moment  the  river  was  gone,  the  pictured 
houses  were  swept  out  of  sight,  and  they  were  coming 
in  view  of  the  mountains  and  Violet  Hill.  Whose 
figure  was  that  far  away,  by  the  sunny  front-door? 
It  was  clad  in  white,  and  must  be  Evelyn's ;  and  she 
was  certainly  watching  the  winding  train.  With  a  joy 
ful  impulse,  he  took  off  his  hat  to  her  from  the  car- 
window.  She  did  not  know  it,  but  they  were  looking 
toward  each  other ;  and  there  was  something  in  that, 
even  though  the  glances  of  both  were  lost  in  space,  like 
the  smiles  which  angels  lavish,  perhaps,  on  blind,  un- 
recognizing  mortals. 

After  this  he  sank  back  in  his  seat,  and  realized 
that  the  summer  was  over.  He  remembered  that  he 
had  heard  the  crickets  last  night  "singing  spin,  spin, 
under  the  leaves,  and  by  the  well."  It  was  the  fifth 
of  September,  and  he  had  spent  a  long  season  at 
Narransauc,  and  this  was  the  end  of  it.  He  did  not 
care  to  look  at  the  mountains,  though  they  were  to  be 
had  for  the  asking :  he  was  in  no  rnood  for  mountains 
this  afternoon.  They  recalled  to  him  what  might  be 
termed  the  Jehovah  side  of  the  Almighty,  and  sug 
gested  the  inexorableuess  of  law  ;  and  he  shrank  from 
the  thought  of  law,  now  he  was  about  to  meet  the 
workings  of  it  face  to  face  in  a  battle  for  life  or 
death. 

He  could  not  forget  the  errand  which  was  calling 


I §4  DRONES'  HONEY. 

him  home  ;  but  he  tried  his  best  to  be  an  optimist, 
drowning  his  fears  as  well  as  he  could,  by  saying  over 
and  over  that  his  father  was  strong,  and  had  perhaps 
thrown  off  the  ailment,  whatever  it  might  be,  by  this 
time,  and  was  calling  Gertrude  to  account  for  wiring 
Ben  home  so  tragically  for  naught.  Above  all,  he 
would  not  think  of  the  slight  altercations  he  had  some 
times  had  with  his  father.  Possibly  he  had  been  in 
the  wrong  now  and  then,  and  there  was  a  doubt 
whether  he  had  been  always  duly  respectful.  These 
things  do  not  look  quite  the  same  in  the  clear,  unspar 
ing  light  of  an  awakened  conscience,  and  he  really 
dared  not  review  them  to-day. 

As  for  dropping  law  for  medicine,  he  was  sure  he 
was  right  there,  and  whatever  came  should  never  regret 
it.  He  saw  now  that  he  had  meant  all  his  life  to  do 
this  thing ;  and  his  coming  to  Narransauc  had  onty 
aroused  the  dormant  purpose,  and  hastened  a  step  that 
was  inevitable.  But  he  would  not  say  any  thing  about 
this  to  his  father  while  he  was  ill ;  perhaps  it  was  as 
well  not  to  mention  it,  at  present,  even  to  his  mother. 

But  there  was  one  thing  he  should  say  to  his  mother, 
and  he  found  great  solace  in  thinking  of  it :  he  should 
talk  to  her  of  Miss  Searle.  He  knew  how  interested 
she  would  be,  and  how  pleased,  like  any  girl,  to  hear 
him  say  that  Evelyn  reminded  him  of  herself,  and  that 
it  was  this  resemblance  which  had  attracted  him  at 
the  first. 

"I  do  not  know  how  I  shall  describe  her,  except  to 
say  she  has  sunshine  in  her  hair  and  in  her  heart,  and 
a  rare,  fine  face,  — '  a  face  to  lose  one's  life  for  ;  a}*, 
and  more,  to  live  for.'  No  rhapsodies, — I  despise 


DRONES'  HONEY.  195 

them.  I  will  be  careful  not  to  betra}-  my  real  feelings 
to  mother;  I'll  wait  for  that  till  I've  been  back  to 
Narransauc  and  learned  my  fate." 

He  looked  at  the  moment  as  if  he  had  small  fear  of 
his  fate.  At  this  distance  from  Evelyn,  and  no  longer 
oppressed  by  dumb  diffidence,  he  carried  a  bold  heart. 
He  reviewed  her  words  and  looks,  and  thought  she  had 
given  various  slight,  intangible  signs  which  were  very 
hopeful.  And  the  more  he  dwelt  upon  them,  the  more 
hopeful  they  grew.  True,  he  had  no  right  to  aspire  to 
such  a  peerless  woman ;  nor  would  he  presume  to  do  it 
if  she  knew  her  own  worth,  which  providentially  she 
did  not.  The  most  remarkable  thing  about  her  was 
her  humility,  and  this  emboldened  him.  Then,  too, 
she  was  so  charitable,  kindly  overlooking  everybody's 
shortcomings,  even  Joe  Fiske's ;  and,  if  she  was  so 
gracious  to  poor  Joe,  what  might  she  not  be  to  a 
person  of  really  sound  mind ;  a  young  man,  for  ex 
ample,  who  had  tastes  in  harmonj^  with  her  own,  and 
was  really  capable  of  appreciating  her,  —  in  fact,  did 
appreciate  her  to  the  very  depths  of  his  soul,  —  and 
had  ventured  to  say  so,  but  who  had  at  the  same  time 
the  delicacy  to  refrain  from  pressing  his  suit  till  she 
gave  some  response? 

When  Mr.  Kirke's  hopes  had  soared  so  high  as  this, 
it  was  time  for  them  to  sink  a  little,  as  they  did  when 
he  called  to  mind  sundry  pin-thrusts  Miss  Wilder  had 
given  him  concerning  idleness.  Did  Miss  Searle  dis 
approve  of  him,  too,  in  her  gentle,  pitying  wa}*?  He 
threw  up  the  window  with  a  sudden  feeling  of  oppres 
sion.  He  had  been  a  graceless  idler ;  he  admitted  it. 
But  a  new  purpose  was  stirring  within  him ;  he  was 


196  DRONES'  HONEY. 

trying  to  reform,  and  she  had  seen  that  he  was  trying. 
She  might  not  consider  him  in  every  way  admirable  ; 
yet  was  that  the  point,  after  all?  Had  he  not  read 
somewhere,  that  "  love  does  not  ask  for  perfections,  it 
asks  for  its  own  "?  If  that  is  so,  and  he  felt  that  it 
must  be  so,  the  question  was  simply,  Did  they  belong 
to  each  other?  And  here  his  heart  went  up  again  at  a 
bound ;  for  what  lover  ever  doubts  his  own  intuitions 
in  this  regard?  Yes,  they  surely  belonged  to  each 
other;  and,  though  she  might  not  know  it  3~et,  the 
knowledge  would  not  fail  to  come. 

It  is  noticeable  in  these  ruminations,  which  lasted 
through  the  whole  journey,  that  he  did  not  dwell  upon 
the  fact  of  having  saved  her  life.  The  scenes  of  that 
terrible  night  were  ever  before  him,  but  he  never  mag 
nified  the  part  he  had  played  ;  and,  as  for  presuming 
upon  it  as  a  passport  to  her  favor,  the  idea  was  unim 
aginable.  Some  young  men  might  have  reflected  that 
a  young  lady  is  naturally  grateful  for  being  rescued 
from  the  grave,  and  that  gratitude  may  lead  to  a 
warmer  sentiment ;  but  this  would  not  have  occurred 
to  Ben  Kirke,  or,  if  it  had,  he  would  have  scorned  him 
self  for  it.  He  was  not  shrewd  or  calculating  or  mer 
cenary  ;  he  could  not  traffic  in  a  sentiment.  Besides, 
what  did  he  want  of  a  sentiment  that  could  be  bargained 
for?  Away  with  a  love  that  was  not  spontaneous. 

He  thought  of  Kate  Stanley,  and  smiled  to  remember 
that  the  time  had  been,  and  that  only  two  months  ago, 
when  he  considered  these  things  only  matters  of  opin 
ion  and  circumstance,  when  he  challenged  himself  be 
cause  he  could  not  be  duly  impressed  by  the  suitable 
young  lady  whom  the  family  had  ordained  for  him. 


DRONES'  HONEY.  197 

Well,  he  knew  better  now.  But  Kate  was  a  pretty 
girl,  a  very  pretty  girl ;  and,  if  he  should  meet  her 
to-morrow  at  his  own  house,  he  should  not  be  annoyed 
as  heretofore,  by  her  too  evident  admiration  for  — 
Lucy. 

But  now,  after  two  nights  spent  on  the  train,  here 
he  was  almost  at  the  station.  They  could  not  have 
looked  for  him  quite  so  soon,  or  they  would  have  sent 
the  carriage.  He  entered  a  hack,  and  carefully  avoided 
thinking  of  his  father.  He  assured  himself  that  he 
should  probably  be  in  Chicago  only  a  few  days,  —  that 
is,  if  all  went  well  at  home,  —  only  a  few  days  just 
now  ;  and  then  he  would  return  to  Narransauc  for  an 
interview  with  Evelyn  before  beginning  in  earnest  his 
future  studies,  either  in  New  York  or  Philadelphia. 
He  would  go  to  Maine  next  week,  —  yes,  surely  by  the 
last  of  the  week. 

He  kept  declaring  this  to  his  throbbing  heart  with 
more  and  more  emphasis  the  nearer  he  approached  his 
home.  But  what  an  endless  distance  it  seemed  from 
the  station  !  He  could  not  say  he  did  not  dread  alight 
ing  from  the  coach.  Ah,  there  was  Caligula  dancing 
down  the  path  to  meet  him ! 

Good  heavens !  what  did  he  see  fluttering  at  the 
front  door  ?  Not  crape  ? 

"  O  Benjamin,  my  son,  my  son  !  "  said  the  pale  little 
mother,  sinking  into  his  arms  as  he  entered  the  hall. 
"  Before  the  despatch  reached  you,  it  was  too  late." 


198  DRONES'  HONEY. 


XVII. 

"  So  Heaven  but  thy  cup  fill, 
Be  empty  mine  unto  eternity." 


R.  \V.  GILDER. 


is  one  of  the  lost  da3's,"  said  Evelyn  to 
herself.  "It  looks  back  at  me,  and  says  re 
proachfully,  'Why  did  you  let  me  go?'  :  She  was 
in  the  garden,  watching  a  gorgeous  crimson  and  gold 
butterfly,  as  it  stooped  to  embrace  a  blossom  of  red 
clover,  hovered  lovingly  over  it,  and.  then  fickly  flew 
awa}\  The  tender  green  ferns  planted  near  the  old 
willow  were  neglected  ;  so  was  the  waving  grass  with 
its  delicate,  feathery  top.  No,  back  comes  the  but 
terfly  to  kiss  the  grass  ;  it  is  the  sweet  clover-tops  that 
are  neglected  now,  and  the  moon-faced  daisies.  One 
can  never  predict  of  these  airy,  coquetting  butterflies 
where  they  will  finally  alight. 

"  I  believe  there  is  a  faint  shining  at  the  tips  of  the 
grass, — the  autumn-shine  which  usually  comes  toward 
the  last  of  September.  I  have  hardly  thought  before 
that  the  summer  is  really  going ;  it  has  been  such  a 
short  summer,  so  brilliant  too ;  and  there  has  been 
so  much  in  it  to  divert  one's  thoughts. — O  Theo- 
date !  "  said  she  aloud,  as  her  friend  approached  and 
playfully  threw  a  light  shawl  over  her  shoulders,  "  it 
is  not  late  enough  in  the  season  for  shawls,  I  hope ; 


DRONES'  HONEY.  199 

or  am  I  growing  old,  do  you  think,  with  a  latent  ten 
dency  to  rheumatism?  " 

Theodate,  who  had  not  outgrown  the  gratitude  and 
joy  of  Evelyn's  recovery,  bent  impulsively  and  kissed 
her.  Why  would  not  the  dear  girl  submit  to  being  cared 
for,  when  it  was  her  own  supreme  joy  to  find  little 
ways  of  serving  her? 

"You  look  pale  to-night,  Evelyn.  I  am  sure  these 
callers  have  been  very  wearing ;  but  the  whole  town 
is  so  glad  I  did  not  succeed  in  destroying  you,  that 
they  will  come,  and  keep  coming ;  I  don't  see  how  we 
are  to  help  it." 

"  Oh,  how  should  I  feel  if  they  didn't  want  to  come? 
What  would  life  be  to  me  if  nobody  cared  whether  I 
lived  or  died?"  said  Evelyn  with  feeling.  "Only, 
1  must  say,  I  haven't  accomplished  much  for  a  whole 
week.  One  can't,  you  know,  with  so  many  people 
coming  and  going.  Four  quarters  do  not  make  a 
whole  hour,  Theodate,  to  a  writer.  The  pieces  can't 
be  joined  together,  you  know." 

"Very  true;  they  fray  shockingly  at  the  edges. 
But,  Evelyn,  you  are  not  well  yet.  Why  will  you 
persist  in  writing  now?  Why  not  wait  till  cooler 
weather,  and  take  these  beautiful  days  for  rest?  " 

"Perhaps  I  might  as  well,"  was  the  plaintive  re 
sponse.  "I  own  I  was  discouraged  when  the  mail 
came  last  night,  and  " — 

"  We  ought  to  have  had  more  letters ;  there  were 
some  strange  omissions,"  said  Theodate,  thinking  to 
help  Evetyn  over  a  hard  place  ;  for  she  wished,  without 
doubt,  to  speak  of  Mr.  Kirke,  and  found  it  difficult. 

But  Evelyn  had   no  intention  of  alluding  to  that 


200  DRONES'  HONEY. 

vagrant  3*oung  man.  She  "steered  her  course,  the 
woman's  diagonal,"  quite  away  from  Mr.  Kirke. 
"  The  truth  is,  Theodate,  —  I  know  you  will  be  sorry, 
and  I  hardly  like  to  tell  you,  — but  oue  of  my  stories 
came  back  last  night." 

"  Oh,  that  was  too  bad  !     Which  one  ?  " 

"  '  The  Christmas  Rose,'  that  cost  me  so  much 
labor,  and  seemed  to  both  of  us  oue  of  my  best.  It 
came  back  without  a  word,  except  that  dreadful  death- 
warrant  of  a  printed  circular." 

"  The  story  was  too  good  for  them,  my  dear." 

"  But  they  sent  one  back  in  April." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  they  had  editorial  toothache,  then, 
or  neuralgia  from  the  spring  winds.  Try  a  more  dis 
cerning  editor  next  time,"  said  Theodate  stoutly. 

She  often  despaired  of  her  own  pictures,  but  her 
faith  iu  Evelyn's  stories  was  sublime. 

"  You  dear  little  bird  of  paradise  !  I  never  saw  you 
so  low  before  over  a  rejected  manuscript." 

The  bowed  head  was  raised  now,  and  Evelyn  re 
torted  with  some  spirit,  "  But  you  feel  it,  Theodate, 
when  your  pictures  are  criticised  ;  you  feel  it  deeply." 

"  Yes;  for  I'm  the  great-granddaughter  of  Lucifer, 
fearfully  proud  and  ambitious. — And  fortunately  per 
haps,"  added  Theodate  to  herself  with  comp:  eased 
lips  ;  "  for  what  would  be  left  to  me,  a  lone  woman,  in 
case  Evelyn  should  go  out  of  my  life?  What,  indeed, 
but  my  absorbing  interest  in  art?  "  Then,  turning  to 
Evelyn,  "  You  were  with  Mrs.  Simpson  a  long  while 
this  afternoon.  What  did  she  say  of  Mr.  Kirke?  " 

"  Oh,  it  was  just  as  we  heard  at  first.  He  was  sum 
moned  home  very  suddenly." 


DRONES'  HONEY.  2OI 

"  Still,  Evelyn,  it  is  strange  he  should  not  have  sent 
us  some  word." 

"  Rather.  But  his  father  may  be  very  low  ;  and  in 
that  case  he  has  had  no  time,  even  if  he  has  thought 
of  us  at  all." 

And  then  she  deftly  changed  the  subject  to  some 
defaulted  bonds,  which  she  had  scarcely  thought  of  in 
a  month.  Theodate's  face  was  sure  to  take  on  a  look 
of  helpless  dismay  at  the  least  financial  allusion  ;  and 
Evelyn  liked  to  call  up  that  look  sometimes,  when 
Theodate  had  worsted  her  in  an  argument,  or  when, 
as  now,  she  tried  too  curiously  to  read  her  thoughts. 
Jt  was  the  only  cruelty  in  which  Evelyn  ever  indulged 
towards  this  superior  young  woman. 

"Defaulted?  Yes;  you  said  equipment  bonds.  Let 
me  see,  that  means  —  oh,  yes,  your  uncle  spoke  of 
4  watered  stock,'  and  a  —  a  —  per  cent !  Don't  laugh, 
and  don't  explain.  Please  don't  explain  ;  you  know  it 
makes  me  feel  that  4 1  wish  I  was  a  washwoman.'  ' 

This  was  the  favorite  plaint  of  their  neighbor  Mrs. 
Skillings ;  and  it  happened  somewhat  curiously  that 
at  this  very  moment  she  was  making  it  to  her  son 
Jimmy,  having  fallen  into  her  usual  s^pugh  of  despond 
over  mending  with  a  strip  of  calico  his  otherwise  una 
vailable  jacket.  "Oh,  hum!  I  wish  I  was  a  wash 
woman  !  Why,  what's  this,  you  good-for-nothing  boy? 
Who's  this  letter  to,  and  how  came  it  a-mellowin'  in 
your  pocket?  " 

Jimmy  clutched  at  it  with  surprise,  and  even  a  glim 
mer  of  remorse,  unwilling  to  confess  that  it  was  for 
Miss  Searle,  and  had  been  intrusted  to  his  heedless 
hands  by  Mr.  Simpson.  But  his  mother  could  read 


202  PRQNES*  HONEY. 

writing,  being  of  a  literary  turn  ;  far  too  literaiy  indeed 
for  a  woman  with  aspirations  toward  the  laundry,  as 
two  or  three  yellow-covered  pamphlets  on  the  floor 
bore  witness. 

"  'Twas  wrote  in  pencil,  and  is  'most  rubbed  out; 
but  that  letter  is  for  Evelyn  Searle,  the  best  friend 
you've  got,  and  how  you  came  by  it  is  more'n  I 
know." 

"  Mr.  Simpson  give  it  to  me  at  the  decp-o  t'other 
day,"  spoke  up  Jimmy,  frightened  into  the  truth,  or 
rather  the  truth  frightened  out  of  him,  by  the  pelting 
of  his  mother's  thimble  on  the  organ  of  conscientious 
ness. 

"  Don't  see  what  he  was  a-writin'  to  her  for,"  said 
Mrs.  Skillings,  turning  the  dingy,  battered  letter  over 
and  over  in  her.  hands,  in  search  of  a  weak  place  where 
she  could  peep  in  without  breaking  the  seal. 

"Mr.  Simpson  didn't  write  it,"  pursued  truthful 
Jimmy  ;  "  'twas  that  tall  man  that  goes  to  see  her  so 
much,  —  the  one  that  give  me  the  dollar,"  he  had 
nearly  added ;  but  this  was  a  secret  shared  only  with 
his  alternate  friend  and  foe,  Bob  Short,  and  by  uo 
means  intended  for  his  mother's  ears. 

"That  tall  man?  What!  you  don't  mean  that 
pretty  Mr.  Kirke?  Well,  I  never!  And  she  haint 
seen  it  yet,  and  don't  know  he  wrote  it.  Why,  you 
miser'ble,  wicked  bo}',"  with  another  application  of 
the  thimble,  and  still  another,  appalled  by  the  thought, 
"Maybe  he's  broke  up  a  match;"  for,  though  "  dis- 
espoused  "  herself  by  the  desertion  of  the  recreant  Mr. 
Skillings,  she  still  held  romantic  views  of  marriage  ; 
and  her  gratitude  toward  Evelyn  took  the  form  of  a 


DRONES'  HONEY.  203 

desire  to  help  on  a  possible  love-affair,  that  would 
"read  off  like  a  story  in  a  book."  "Do  you  wash 
your  face  this  minute,  James  Skilliugs,"  —  a  ceremony 
rarely  observed  on  week-days;  —  "and  put  on  Bub's 
jacket  and  his  straw  hat ;  and  do  }'ou  march  up  that 
hill  as  quick  as  you  can  fly,  and  tell  her  you  lost  the 
letter  in  a  mud-puddle,  and  I  found  it  for  you.  Now, 
mind." 

And  having  done  her  very  best  to  repair  the  mis 
take,  which  might  have  ended  in  Evelyn's  "  mishiat- 
ing  away"  to  a  love-lorn  skeleton,  and  dying  at  last 
in  single  misery,  the  good  woman  dropped  a  few 
indiscriminate  boxes  on  the  ears  of  her  children,  and 
stood  with  hands  on  her  hips  to  watch  the  reluctant 
Jimmy  out  of  sight. 

"  I  dunno  but  I'd  ought  ter  gone  myself.  What  if 
he  should  go  and  hide  the  letter,  and  then  have  the 
brass  to  lie  to  me  about  it  ?  " 

But,  to  do  Jimmy  justice,  such  an  alternative  did 
not  occur  to  him.  He  made  excellent  speed,  only 
pausing  once  to  throw  stones  at  a  cat,  thus  showing 
himself  the  superior  animal,  —  the  cat  being  unable  to 
retaliate, — and  was  at  Violet  Hill  in  one-third  the 
time  his  corpulent  mother  would  have  required  for 
the  journey. 

"  Look  here,"  said  he,  presenting  the  letter  to  Eve 
lyn  with  a  look  of  injured  innocence,  "  I  should  have 
give  it  to  you  at  the  time  of  it,  only  Bob  Short's  davvg 
—  I  never  see  such  a  dawg,  always  getting  things  and 
rolling  round  with  'em  in  the  dirt.  I  tell  ye  it's  awful 
about  that  dawg." 

They  were  all  in  the  garden,  and  the  sun  was  setting. 


204  DRONES'  HOA'EY. 

Evelyn  held  out  her  hand  for  the  soiled  missive, 
wondering  who  could  have  sent  it ;  while  Theodate 
prepared  to  administer  a  rebuke  to  Jimmy  for  making 
a  scapegoat  of  the  "  dawg."  By  that  time  the  letter 
had  been  opened. 

"Nothing  but  the  despatch  which  Mr.  Kirke  re 
ceived  last  Wednesday,"  said  Evelyn,  passing  it  over 
to  Theodate.  The  words,  u  I  leave  immediately,  will 
write  you  soon.  Good-by,"  were  hastily  scrawled  on 
the  margin. 

Verily  this  is  a  relative  world,  in  which  all  things 
take  their  meaning  from  the  mind  of  the  beholder. 
This  piece  of  yellow  paper,  which  had  struck  a  chill 
to  Ben  Kirke's  heart,  awoke  a  glow  in  the  heart  of 
Evelyn  Searle.  Strange  that  bad  news,  and  a  few 
words  written  in  the  flush  of  distress,  should  become 
a  message  of  healing.  Evelyn  did  not  acknowledge 
to  herself  that  she  cared  for  Mr.  Kirke,  but  she  wished 
at  least  to  respect  him  ;  and  his  sudden,  silent  de 
parture  had  seemed  very  much  against  him. 

"  Well,  I  am  glad  to  do  him  tardy  justice,"  said 
Theodate,  giving  back  the  note  to  Evelyn. 

But  her  voice  broke  off  sharp  and  cold.  The  yellow 
paper  was  no  message  of  healing  to  her,  but  the  sign 
and  seal  of  something  sorely  to  be  dreaded,  —  some 
thing  she  had  fondly  hoped  might  never  occur.  She 
had  begun  to  think  Mr.  Kirke  had  no  serious  interest 
in  Evelyn ;  and  if  the  dear  girl  should  chafe  a  little 
now  under  his  unkind  neglect,  and  suffer  a  few  twinges 
more  or  less  of  wounded  pique,  it  would  be  a  blessed 
mission  for  Theodate  to  heal  the  trivial  wounds. 

But  if  he  really  cared,  if  he  should  persist,  what  then  ? 


DRONES'  HONEY.  205 

"This  despatch  sounds  very  alarming,"  said  Eve 
lyn  with  a  misty  brightness  in  her  eyes. 

"  Yes,  very,"  echoed  Theodate.  And  then  the  sud 
den  sensation  came  over  her  that  one  has  in  taking 
ether,  like  going  giddily  down  a  precipice ;  and  she 
leaned  against  the  oak-tree  for  support.  She  had  been 
very  languid  since  the  late  tragedy  ;  for,  brave  as  she 
was  in  spirit,  she  could  ill  bear  any  strong  emotion. 
There  was  a  physical  cause  for  this,  or  Theodate  would 
have  despised  herself.  Her  doctors  assured  her  her 
mind  was  not  weak,  but  she  suffered  from  a  weak  action 
of  the  heart ;  and  this  restored  her  self-respect. 

Jimmy,  after  waiting  a  reasonable  time  for  his  usual 
carrier's  fee  of  a  penny,  grew  discouraged  and  walked 
away  with  speechless  indignation,  making  all  the  noise 
he  could  through  a  hollow  pumpkin-vine.  And  present 
ly,  as  twilight  was  falling,  the  young  ladies  walked  into 
the  house  together,  but  not  arm  in  arm.  It  seemed  to 
Theodate  that  that  vague  something,  so  greatly  to  be 
dreaded,  had  almost  taken  tangible  shape,  and  stepped 
bodily  between  them,  and  would  keep  its  place  between 
them  forevermore.  Well,  she  could  bear  it,  and  she 
would  bear  it,  only  give  her  time ;  she  must  have  time. 

"  I  believe  there  is  a  September  chill  in  the  air," 
said  Evelyn ;  merely,  it  would  seem,  to  break  the 
silence  ;  and  Theodate  replied,  "  Yes,  I  feel  a  chill." 

Rosa  was  coming  now  with  the  mail.  She  had 
another  letter  from  Peter,  —  which  she  held  smilingly 
between  her  teeth,  and  would  read  aloud  in  the  kitchen 
presently,  —  two  letters  for  Miss  Date,  and  one  for  Miss 
Evelyn.  How  could  it  have  concerned  Theodate,  that 
one  letter  to  Evelyn,  when  she  had  her  own  to  open 


206  DRONES'  HONEY. 

and  read?  Why  need  she  have  taken  note  of  the 
dashing  superscription,  in  the  moment  it  flashed  before 
her  eyes?  And  how  could  she  recognize  it  as  Mr. 
Kirke's,  when  she  did  not  know  his  hand?  "Was  it  a 
thing  to  wonder  at,  that  he  should  have  written  to 
Evelyn  and  not  to  herself?  Alas  and  alas  !  Must  she 
still  contend  with  that  wild  illusion  ?  There  had  been 
no  idea  more  central  to  her  mind  for  weeks  than  this 
of  Mr.  Kirke's  preference  for  Evelyn.  She  had  forced 
herself  to  dwell  upon  it,  had  tried  to  familiarize  herself 
with  it,  setting  aside  all  unworthy  thought  of  self.  In 
her  secret  heart  she  had  fancied  —  but  that  now  seemed 
very  long  ago  —  that  she  understood  him  better  than 
Evelyn  did ;  and  that  he  was  dimly  conscious  of  it, 
and  instinctively  turned  to  her  rather  than  to  Evelyn 
for  sympathy  and  counsel. 

"  Yes,  for  sympathy  and  counsel.  It  was  only  a 
mistake  of  mine,"  thought  Theodate,  crushing  her  un 
opened  letters  in  her  hand.  "We  must  have  illusions 
of  some  sort  to  keep  us  alive,  and  that  was  one  of  my 
illusions.  Yet  was  it  a  very  strange  one,  after  all? 
If  I  had  had  Evelyn's  face  and  figure,  her  charm  of 
manner,"  looking  at  her  from  under  her  eyelashes, 
"would  it  then  have  been  strange?  Would  anybody 
have  blamed  me  then  for  the  thought  ?  No.  Theodate 
Wilder  in  a  finer  garment  of  flesh  would  have  been 
love-worthy.  Theodate  Wilder  as  she  now  is,  plain, 
brusque,  angular,  is  unwinsome  to  the  last  degree. 

"This  is  a  point  I  never  understood,"  she  thought 
sorrowfully,  "why  one's  dearest  happiness  should  turn 
upon  a  minor  point  like  beauty.  It  seems  unjust. 
And  it  is  not  only  one's  dearest  happiness  that  turns 


DRONES'  HONEY.  2O/ 

upon  it,  it  is  one's  destination  for  life,  —  yes,  one's 
destination  for  life." 

Evelyn  read  her  letter  in  her  chamber,  and  the  two 
friends  did  not  meet  again  till  she  came  down-stairs  to 
say  good-night,  with  a  new  look  —  was  it  joy,  or  only 
perplexity  ?  —  upon  her  face. 

"There  is  something  I  would  like  to  say  to  you," 
said  she  hesitatingly;  "something  that  will  surprise 
you,  I  know." 

"  Is  Judge  Kirke  worse?  " 

"He  is  not  living." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hear  it.  Is  that  what  you  wanted  to 
tell  me?" 

"  No." 

"  So  I  thought.  But  wait  till  to-morrow,  dear.  I 
would  rather  not  hear  it  to-night."  This  with  a  warm 
kiss  upon  the  hesitating,  trembling  lips.  And  then,  as 
they  parted  at  the  door  of  Evelyn's  chamber,  Theodate 
added,  "I  wish  you  to  understand,  little  one,  that  I 
am  not  near-sighted  in  my  affections,  any  more  than 
you  are.  I  know  you  would  be  glad  if  some  beautiful 
thing  were  to  happen  to  me  :  so  why  shouldn't  I  rejoice 
if  a  beautiful  thing  were  to  happen  to  you?  " 

"  Oh,  but,  dear"  — 

"  Only  wait  till  to-morrow,  and  you  may  tell  me  all. 
I  will  listen  then  with  my  whole  heart." 

Truly  Theodate  was  brave,  after  all,  and  her  pressed 
grapes  yielded  red  wine. 


208  DRONES'  HONEY. 


XVIII. 

"  It  is  easier  to  be  altogether  silent  than  not  to  speak  a  word  too 

much." 

THOMAS  A  KEHPIS. 

A  MAN  having  drawn  a  pail  of  water  from  a  well, 
by  means  of  a  long  pole,  now  sits  on  the  well- 
curb  lost  in  thought ;  while  the  water  in  the  pail  may 
be  supposed  to  behold  with  surprise  the  blue  sky  it  has 
never  seen  before,  gradually  losing  all  its  zest  and 
sparkle,  however,  as  the  surprise  dies  away  to  tame 
familiarity ;  a  reflective  tub,  also  looking  upward  at 
the  sky ;  two  well-loaded  apple-trees  with  gnarled 
branches,  presenting  the  appearance  of  playing  calis 
thenics  ;  glimpses  of  damp  white  clothes  drying  in 
zigzag  lines,  —  all  these  objects  in  the  background : 
in  the  foreground,  a  luxurious  patch  of  clover,  and  a 
beautiful  white  and  bronze-red  calf  disporting  gayly 
therein.  This  is  the  picture  which  Theodate  has  out 
lined  upon  her  canvas  with  much  spirit,  and  which  she 
is  finishing  now  rather  slowly  and  laboriously.  She  is 
in  the  attic  with  her  easel,  sitting  under  the  skylight, 
where  she  likes  to  sit  when  the  weather  is  not  too 
warm. 

The  sun  is  flooding  her  blue-black  hair  with  a  white 
light ;  she  wears  her  usual  "  business  apron  "  of  black 
cambric,  fantastically  besprinkled  with  every  shade  of 
color. 


HONEY.  209 

Evelyn  comes  in  with  the  preface  of  a  little  knock, 
but  hardly  waits  for  an  answer.  She  is  lovely  even  in 
that  plain  print  wrapper.  What  a  soft,  fair,  infantile 
complexion  !  Theodate  turns  her  head  with  a  smile 
of  welcome,  but  does  not  miss  the  stroke  she  is  giving 
the  nose  of  her  calf.  Ah,  that  stroke  tells  !  Now  the 
pretty  creature  seems  to  sniff  the  clover  in  those  happy 
nostrils.  How  thoroughly  alive  he  is !  Perhaps, 
though,  there  is  not  enough  of  the  "  morning  dazzle  " 
in  those  young,  mellow  eyes. 

"Well,  Evelyn?" 

"Yes,  Theodate."  There  is  a  lingering  sweetness 
in  Evelyn's  tones,  which  savors  of  reluctance. 

"  Take  this  chair  by  me." 

Evelyn  first  removes  several  color-tubes,  a  palette- 
knife,  and  other  artist  properties,  and  seats  herself 
slowly.  The  chair  is  a  confessional,  Theodate  is  the 
priest.  Theodate  is  not  regarding  her,  —  her  eyes  are 
on  the  calf ;  but  she  listens  well  while  she  works,  and 
Evelyn  considers  it  an  advantage  to  be  able  to  talk 
without  her  friend's  eyes  upon  her.  On  second 
thought  she  rises,  places  the  chair  at  the  right  of 
Theodate,  and  farther  back.  This  gives  her  a  better 
view  of  the  picture. 

"  Have  you  found  a  name  for  it  yet?  " 

"  Yes,  — «  Living  in  Clover.'  " 

"Excellent." 

"  Well,  go  on.     I  am  listening." 

It  was  nothing  extraordinary  that  Evelyn  had  to  say  : 
just  the  old  story  of  a  man  who  lays  his  heart  at  a 
woman's  feet,  uncertain  of  her  royal  favor;  and  it  was 
given  hesitatingly,  as  one  translates  a  poem  from  a 


210  DRONES'  HONEY. 

foreign  tongue.  A  trite  tale,  and  poorly  told ;  but 
Theodate  listened  reverently,  as  if  it  were  a  new  thing 
fresh  out  of  heaven.  She  waited  for  some  hint  of 
Evelyn's  own  feelings,  but  none  was  given ;  the  girl 
kept  strictly  to  the  point. 

"  I  thought  you  ought  to  know  this,  Theodate." 

Theodate  thanked  her ;  and  then  she  set  a  star  in  the 
calf  s  forehead,  bent  her  head  backwards,  half  closed 
her  eyes,  and  scanned  him  with -the  rapt,  admiring 
gaze  of  the  working  artist. 

"You  will  not  answer  in  haste,  Evelyn?  When  is 
he  coming  back?  " 

"  Not  very  soon,  there  is  a  great  deal  there  demand 
ing  his  attention.  I'm  sure  he  would  not  have  written 
just  yet  if  it  had  not  been  for  something  he  said  to 
me  the  night  before  he  went  away," — a  pause, — 
"something  which  would  naturally  lead  me  to  expect 
him  to  say  more,"  she  added,  blushing  daintily  behind 
Theodate's  back. 

But  Theodate  was  left  to  imagine  what  he  had  said. 
For  that  matter,  she  had  been  left  to  imagine  most  of 
his  letter.  Evelyn  had  really  told  her  very  little  ;  and 
perhaps,  when  carefully  condensed,  there  was  not  very 
much  to  tell.  His  father's  death  had  been  a  grievous 
blow  ;  and  his  mother  was  utterly  crushed,  requiring 
his  whole  attention,  and  scarcely  allowing  him  out  of 
her  sight. 

"I  am  glad  for  her,"  said  Theodate,  "that  she 
has  such  a  son.  I  remember  his  calm  strength,  how- 
good  it  was  to  lean  on  last  week,  when  my  heart  was 
failing  me  for  fear.  Oh,  won't  yon  come  here,  little 
one,  and  give  me  a  kiss?  There  is  no  paint  on  my 


DRONES'  HONEY.  211 

cheek ;  and  it  is  so  refreshing  to  feel  that  you  are 
alive." 

Evelyn  stole  softly  to  her  friend's  side,  put  both 
arms  round  her  neck,  kissing  her  again  and  again  with 
unusual  fervor.  Theodate  set  down  her  palette  and 
her  brush,  and  laid  her  hand  silently  on  the  golden 
head  that  was  level  with  her  own. 

"  Shall  I  not  call  on  Heaven  to  bless  her,  my  one  ewe 
lamb?"  said  she  to  herself,  "my  one  ewe  lamb  that 
has  been  spared  me  in  mercy?  And  shall  I  harbor  any 
regret  at  giving  her  away  to  a  dearer,  stronger  friend, 
who  has  saved  her  life  ?  God  forbid  !  —  And  now  tell 
me,  Evelyn,"  she  asked,  "  what  does  your  heart  say?  " 

Evelyn  moved  away,  half  frightened,  though  she 
affected  a  gay  tone. 

"It  says  three  words,  Theodate."  Their  glances 
met  then,  and  the  solemn  eyes  of  Theodate  held  some 
thing  in  their  depths  that  Evelyn  could  not  see. 

"  I  suppose  I  know  them,  dear.  The  three  words 
are,  '  I  love  him.' ' 

"  No,  oh,  no  !  "  vehemently.  "  They  are,  '  I  do  not 
know.'  " 

"  That  makes  four  words,  Evelyn.  Have  you  for 
gotten  how  to  count?  "  laughed  Theodate  with  a  sud 
den  feeling  of  relief.  Then  added  jocosely,  "  But  love 
knows  no  arithmetic,  they  say." 

"  Theodate,  you  speak  as  if  I  had  a  right  to  a  —  a  — 
sentiment.  What  do  you  mean  ?  There  are  things  to 
be  thought  of  —  other  things  ;  first  of  all,  that  compact 
you  and  I  made  when  we  began  to  live  together." 

"  Not  first  of  all,  Evelyn.  You  would  not  consider 
that  first  of  all?" 


212  DRONES'  HONEY. 

"Why  should  I  not,  Theodate?  Do  you  call  that 
promise  mere  child's  play?  For  my  part,  I  meant  it  in 
good  faith,  and  I  gave  ni}-  hand  upon  it  to  keep  it 
while  I  lived." 

"  But  I  absolved  you  from  your  promise,  Evelyn,  a 
week  ago  last  Sunday  night.  Don't  you  remember  it? 
I  granted  you  absolution  before  your  —  death,"  said 
Theodate ;  and  a  great  shudder  ran  over  her.  How 
could  she  have  uttered  that  last  word?  She  often 
shocked  herself  by  the  levity  with  which  she  treated 
serious  subjects.  But,  in  truth,  it  was  her  sole  defence 
against  the  intolerable  weakness  of  tears. 

Evelyn  did  not  reply  at  once.  She  was  thinking  of 
that  dread  scene  which  would  never  seem  quite  real  to 
her,  and  of  Mr.  Kirke's  part  in  it ;  and  it  moved  her 
deeply.  Yes,  waver  as  she  might,  one  thing  at  least 
was  secure,  —  her  gratitude  to  him  for  having  saved 
her  life. 

"  Theodate  !  "     She  looked  flushed  and  uncertain. 

"  Well?  "  returned  her  friend,  with  shining  eyes  and 
rather  overdrawn  composure. 

"Theodate,  you  need  not  have  been  in  such  haste 
to  absolve  me.  You  might  have  waited  at  least  till 
you  were  asked." 

Theodate  smiled  and  nodded. 

"  It  was  my  far-seeing  heart,  dear." 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  saw  or  could  have  fancied," 
went  on  Evelyn  hurriedly,  her  color  deepening;  "but 
your  speaking  in  that  way  hurt  me  a  little  at  the  time, 
—  as  if  you  thought  I  were  longing  to  break  away  from 
you, —  as  if"  — 

"You  shall  have  no  restrictions,  Evelyn." 


DRONES'  HONEY.  213 

"But  I  want  them,  I  cry  out  for  them.  Stand  by 
me,  Theodate." 

"  Verily,  I  will,  — while  yon  need  me." 

"  O  my  better  self,  I  shall  always  need  you !  "  ex 
claimed  Evelyn  with  a  fervor  which  almost  shook  her 
friend's  calmness.  "  Have  we  not  been  sufficient  to 
each  other  heretofore?  Have  you  ever  tired  of  our 
compact,  Theodate?  " 

"  Never,  ma'am  !  '  An'  I  had  but  one  penny  in  the 
world,  thou  should  have  it  to  buy  gingerbread,'  "  quoted 
Theodate  quickly. 

"And  if  this  —  no,  not  this,  but  something  like  it 
—  were  to  come  to  you,  would  you  set  me  one  side, 
Theodate,  and  settle  the  question  without  a  thought 
of  me?" 

There  was  a  scarcely  perceptible  pause  before  the 
answer  came,  — 

"  I  hope  I  should  behave  like  a  sensible  being,  Evelyn 
Searle.  But  how  can  I  tell  without  the  trial?  And 
I  shall  always  be  mercifully  spared  the  trial."  She 
laughed  lightly.  "  You  know  as  well  as  I  do,  Evelyn, 
that  friendship  yields  the  right  of  way  to  love." 

"You  talk  without  any  reason,  Theodate.  A  friend 
ship  like  ours,  that  has  been  tried  and  proved,  —  would 
you  compare  it  for  a  moment  with  the  —  the  other  sen 
timent,  so  very  precarious  and  foolish,  that  turns  the 
heads  of  young  girls?  Only  think  how  suddenly  it 
springs  up,  how  swiftly  it  may  go." 

"  I  will  not  listen  to  that,  child. 

'Ye  do  him  wrong,  ye  do  him  wrong: 
Love  will  stay  for  a  whole  life  long.'  " 


214  "DRONES*  HONEY. 

"  Yes,  the  real,  the  heaven-born  will  stay,  no  doubt ; 
but  how  is  one  to  recognize  him?  "  asked  Evelyn,  rais 
ing  her  perplexed  eyes  to  the  rafters,  along  which  an 
enterprising  spider  was  weaving  a  festoon. 

"  I  admit  he  may  come  in  disguise,"  said  Theodate 
archly. 

"  Yes,  or  he  may  be  a  counterfeit ;  there's  the  danger : 
so  one's  only  safety  is  in  keeping  him  awa}'  altogether." 

"  Oh,  you  lovely,  pusillanimous  creature !  "  mused 
Theodate,  watching  the  play  of  Evelyn's  mobile  face. 
"  I'm  in  full  sympathy  with  Ben  Kirke,  and  in  his 
place  I  know  I  should  have  loved  you  to  distraction. 
But  what  my  chances  would  have  been,  Heaven  only 
knows. — Evelyn  Searle,"  waving  her  brush  toward 
her,  "  if  I  should  cut  into  you  anywhere,  I  believe  there 
wouldn't  a  drop  of  blood  flow  !  What  are  you  made 
of,  — lilies  and  roses ;  or  swan's  down  and  snow?  " 

Evelyn  laughed. 

"  I  am  a  stranger  to  myself,  Theodate.  All  I  know 
for  a  certaint^y  is,  that  I'm  idling  away  the  morning, 
and  that  it  will  never  do.  Good-by  ;  "  and  she  rose, 
and  went  away  without  so  much  as  a  glance  at  the 
calf,  who  had  been  growing  apace  on  his  luscious  diet 
of  clover. 

"Well,  I  didn't  show  the  white  feather,  did  I?" 
thought  Theodate,  and  dropped  her  brush  with  a  heavy 
sigh.  "  It's  always  one  thing  for  me,  never  any 
other.  It's  renunciation  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave." 
She  looked  white  and  worn.  Her  persistent  work  dur 
ing  the  warm  weather  was  telling  upon  her,  but  she 
would  not  admit  it.  Like  M.  Michel,  when  she  was 
ill,  she  "turned  her  face  to  the  wall." 


DRONES'  HONEY.  21$ 

"  Perhaps  I  take  this  too  seriously.  She  does  not 
care  for  him  yet,  and  why  should  I  forbode?"  She 
did  not  resume  the  brush,  but  leaned  back  wearily  in 
her  chair,  with  her  left  hand  pressed  against  her  side. 
"•I  told  her  yesterday  I  was  ambitious,  and  I  hope  I 
am.  We  free  women  are  so  very  free,"  resting  her 
"homeless  eyes"  on  her  canvas.  "We  need  to  be 
tied  to  something,  like  this  little  calf,  which  I  have 
half  a  mind  to  tether  to  a  crow-bar.  Yes,  we  all  need 
some  sort  of  tethering,  or  we  ma\-  rush  away  in  a  wild 
scamper.  That  is  what  I  dread  for  myself  by  and  by, 
—  the  wide  stretch  of  freedom,  the  embarrassment  of 
space.  I  need  a  crow-bar  with  a  chain,  or  I  need  a 
fence.  In  other  words,  I  must  be  persuaded  definitely 
of  what  I  ought  to  do,  and  then  be  compelled  to  do  it. 
Welcome,  art !  Courage,  my  soul !  It  was  not  for 
you  that  the  world  was  made.  It  was  not  for  you  that 
the  sweetest  friend  on  earth  was  born." 

After  this  there  was  scarcely  any  conversation  be 
tween  the  two  friends  regarding  Mr.  Kirke.  Theodate 
only  knew  that  Evelyn  was  still  a  "  stranger  to  her 
self,"  and  that  he  intended  to  see  her  again  face  to 
face  before  she  gave  her  answer. 

Early  in  December  they  sent  Rosa  home  to  her 
mother,  and  they  both  went  to  Boston  for  the  winter. 
In  a  few  days  Mr.  Kirke  came  there  on  a  flying 
visit. 

"Ah!"  said  Mrs.  Freeman,  their  old  landlady, 
sagely;  and  "Ah?"  said  the  old  boarders  curiously. 
And  then  somebody  ventured  to  wonder  what  had  be 
come  of  Mr.  Fiske.  Theodate  held  her  peace,  being 
prudently  blind  and  deaf. 


2l6  DRONES'  HONEY. 

Mr.  Kirke  came  and  went  daily ;  and  his  frank,  re 
spectful  face,  which  had  attracted  Theodate  from  the 
first,  was  illumined  now  by  a  hope,  if  not  a  joy,  which 
made  it  dangerously  pleasing  to  look  upon,  —  or  it 
might  have  been  dangerous  once.  But,  fortunately, 
no  one  knew  this  but  Theodate  herself.  No  one  would 
imagine  how  near  she  had  come  only  last  summer  to 
falling  into  the  "  bottomless  pit  of  nonsense."  Well, 
she  had  been  rescued  from  that  most  effectually,  and 
they  were  certainly  the  very  best  of  comrades  and 
friends. 

As  for  Evelyn,  she  no  longer  said  to  Theodate,  "  I 
don't  know."  On  the  contrary-,  she  simply  said  noth 
ing.  When  Theodate  remarked  that  he  was  improving, 
she  asked  demurely,  "  In  what  respect?  " 

"  Why,  he  has  a  settled  aim  in  life  now.  It  was  all 
he  ever  needed ;  for  you  know  he  always  thought 
rightly,  and  felt  delicately.  It  was  his  only  fault  that 
he  was  too  much  of  a  dreamer." 

"Perhaps  so.  He  seemed  to  be  talking  to  you  with 
great  animation  to-day,"  said  Evelyn,  in  an  inquiring 
tone. 

Theodate  broke  forth  into  the  gayest  laughter.  "  Do 
you  know,  he  was  explaining  his  business  affairs." 

Evelyn  joined  in  the  laugh.  "  How  much  of  it  did 
yon  understand?  " 

"Now  and  then  a  word.  But  I  looked  wondrous 
wise.  Pray  tell  me,  Evelyn,  is  he  reduced  to  pov 
erty?" 

"  Not  quite  that ;  but,  to  the  great  surprise  of  the 
family,  they  find  the  judge  had  met  with  heavy  losses, 
and  not  much  is  left  but  the  small  property  that  was 


DRONES'  HONEY.  21 7 

made  over  to  his  wife.  So  far  as  Ben  is  concerned,  I 
am  glad  of  it ;  for  it  is  the  greatest  blessing  that  could 
have  happened  to  him,"  said  Evelyn  with  a  quaint, 
unworldly  air.  "  At  the  best,  his  father's  estate  could 
not  have  been  settled  under  a  year ;  but,  instead  of 
being  at  the  best,  it  is  at  the  very  worst,  fearfully 
involved  ;  and  this  is  largely  due  to  bondsmen's  debts. 
You  know  what  bondsmen's  debts  are,  Theodate?  " 

"Oh,  dear  no!  " 

"  Never  mind.  I  ought  not  to  have  expected  it  of 
you,'.'  returned  Evelyn  indulgently.  "  But  they  are 
very  trying  debts  to  bear  with,  and  to  have  to  pa}* ; 
and  they  practically  ruined  Judge  Kirke." 

"  What  a  pity  !  "  said  Theodate  ;  but  the  undercur 
rent  of  her  thoughts  ran  joyfully.  "Then  there  can 
be  no  marriage  at  present,  no  marriage  at  least  for  a 
year." 

Would  there  be  one  at  all  ?    Who  could  say  ? 

Evelyn  came  up-stairs  that  evening  remarkably  late 
from  church,  and  confessed,  with  a  comically  demure  air 
of  penitence,  that  she  had  allowed  Mr.  Kirke  to  talk  a 
great  deal. 

"  About  his  business  affairs,  I  suppose?  " 

"  Now,  Theodate,"  said  Evelyn  deprecatingly  ;  and 
then  they  both  laughed. 

"  I  did  not  mean  to  be  inquisitive,  child,  and  I  don't 
like  to  make  suggestions.  Still  I  own  I  should  be 
better  pleased  if  you  knew  when  your  hands  and  feet 
were  warm,  and  if  you  had  the  prudence  not  to  stand 
in  the  hall  door  in  a  draught." 

Evelyn  took  not  the  slightest  notice  of  this  remark. 
"My  dear,  my  dear,"  said  she,  dropping  her  head 


218  DRONES'  HONEY. 

between  her  hands,  "  he  is  going  in  the  morning,  and 
I  am  sending  him  away  without  an  answer." 

"Evelyn!  " 

"  Theodate,  you  have  been  trying  all  along  to  drive 
me  to  the  wall.  You  have  no  pity  on  my  vacillation." 

"Who  would?" 

"Ah,  if  it  could  be  always  as  it  was  last  summer, 
when  we  were  all  friends  together,  and  there  was  no 
question  to  decide  ! ' ' 

"  Let  me  hear  no  more  of  such  idiocy,"  said  Theo 
date  severely.  "  You  have  no  right  to  play  with  him 
in  this  way.  Haven't  you  any  pity  for  a  man  who  has 
been  '  smiled  upon  by  misfortune'  ?  Do  you  know, 
child,  you  are  downright  cruel?  " 

Evelyn  swayed  a  little,  as  if  she  had  received  a 
physical  blow,  but  kept  her  face  in  her  hands. 

"And  do  you  know,  furthermore,  that  some  men 
would  set  you  down  as  a  mercenary  woman,  for  hesi 
tating  now,  just  now  after  these  reverses?  " 

"  "What  can  you  mean,  Theodate,  and  why  should  I 
care  what '  some  men  '  would  think?  He  knows  better 
than  that,"  cried  Evelyn,  raising  her  flushed  face  and 
speaking  vehemently.  "I  am  not  afraid  of  his  mis 
apprehending  me,  —  a  noble,  high-minded  man  like  Mr. 
Kirke." 

"So  you  do  appreciate  him?  I  rejoice  in  your 
consistency." 

' '  Indeed  I  appreciate  him  ;  but  he  is  not  as  old  and 
tried  a  friend  as  you,  Theodate.  I  knew  you  first. 
You  and  I  are  one,  and  what  God  hath  joined  together 
let  no  man  put  asunder." 

Theodate,    much   moved,   pressed    the   bright   head 


DROATES'  HONEY.  219 

against  her  shoulder  caressingly.  "  If  I  did  not  feel, 
dear,  that  you  might  some  time  be  sorry  for  .this,  I 
would  respond  with  all  my  heart,  Amen  !  But  I  declare 
to  you,  Evelyn  Searle,  if  you  let  me  stand  in  your  way 
in  this  thing,  I  will  never  forgive  you  as  long  as  I 
live." 

"You  don't  quite  understand,"  whispered  Evelyn, 
nestling  still  closer,  and  veiling  her  face  in  Theodate's 
falling  hair.  "It  is  not  you  who  stand  in  the  way : 
it  is  myself,  my  slow,  cautious  nature.  I  suppose  I 
am  naturally  what  would  be  called  a  cold  woman  ;  am 
I  not,  Theodate?" 

"  You  are  not  impulsive,  certainly." 

"Some  women's  hearts  are  like  the  Lia  Fail  I  have 
somewhere  read  about,  that  always  vibrated  when  the 
true  king  stood  on  it  to  be  crowned,"  said  Evelyn,  in 
a  wistful  tone.  "It  must  be  a  blessing  to  be  like  that, 
to  '  know  past  all  doubting,  truly.'  But  Mr.  Kirke  says 
he  is  willing  to  wait.  He  is  not  like  you  :  he  does  not 
blame  me,  Theodate." 

A  jealous  pang  seized  Miss  Wilder,  of  a  different 
nature  from  any  she  had  yet  experienced. 

"Is  it  possible,"  she  thought,  "that  he  under 
stands  her  better  after  all  than  I,  who  have  known 
her  so  much  longer  ?  Has  love  a  truer  insight  than 
friendship  ?  Who  knows  but  it  is  so,  and  his  patience 
may  win  her  in  the  end  ? 

"  And  what  then  ?  Hush  !  Who  am  I,  that  I  should 
grudge  him  his  reward." 

When  she  spoke  again,  it  was  almost  meekly. 

"  How  long  will  he  wait  for  your  answer?" 

"  A  year,  Theodate.     Remember,  last  June  I  had 


220  DRONES'  HONEY. 

never  even  heard  his  name.  He  will  wait  a  year,  and 
I  have  told  him  he  may  write  ;  and  I  hope,  by  that  time, 
we  shall  have  revealed  ourselves  to  each  other.  At 
any  rate,  I  can  act  no  differently  in  a  matter  so  serious 
as  this,  affecting  his  whole  future  life  and  mine." 

Evelyn  stood  erect  now,  and  calm  and  self-assured. 

"  And  when  I  give  him  my  answer,  Theodate,  it  will 
be  once  for  all." 

Theodate  looked  at  her  humbly  and  admiringly,  and 
wondered  why  Heaven  had  not  made  all  women  like 
her,  so  cool  and  consistent,  and  so  sweetly  reasonable. 

"  You  are  right,  Evelyn.  You  are  right  now  and 
always." 


DRONES'  HONEY.  221 


XIX. 

"  /  would  it  were  not  as  I  think. 
I  would  I  thought  it  were  not." 

SIR  TIIOMAS  WYATT. 

IN  February  Mr.  Kirke  set  off  with  his  invalid 
mother  for  Drogheda,  in  Southern  California,  to 
pursue  his  medical  studies  there  with  the  eminent  Dr. 
Palmer,  formerly  of  Chicago.  The  next  September, 
at  the  expiration  of  a  year's  mourning  for  their  father, 
both  the  sisters  married,  and  each  of  them  claimed  the 
widowed  mother.  But  she  expressed  the  wish,  very 
gratifying  to  Ben,  to  "be  with  my  son,"  wherever  lie 
might  choose  to  go.  It  looked  now  as  if  he  would 
choose  to  regain  in  California.  The  year  was  pass 
ing,  and  October  had  come. 

The  "  young  ladies "  and  Rosa  were  no  longer 
"three  lone  women :"  for  Rosa  had  taken  to  herself 
for  life  Peter,  the  enemy  of  rabbits,  and  brought  him 
home  to  Violet  Hill ;  and  there  the  four  lived  on  to 
gether  "  in  laughing  comfort." 

The  permission  which  Evelyn  had  given  Mr.  Kirke 
to  write  was  freely  interpreted  to  mean  a  frequent 
and  voluminous  correspondence.  His  letters  showed 
him  very  enthusiastic  over  his  studies.  He  was  thank 
ful,  he  said,  to  have  escaped  the  "  wasting  confusion  " 
of  trying  to  adapt  himself  to  the  law,  a  profession  he 


222  DRONES'  HONEY. 

had  always  disliked,  and  in  which  he  never  should 
have  succeeded. 

''Ah,  well,"  laughed  Theodate,  "it  will  not  be  his 
fault,  Evelyn,  if  you  two  do  not  become  thoroughly 
acquainted !  " 

But,  in  spite  of  herself,  the  days  when  letters  came 
from  Drogheda  were  sad  days  for  Theodate.  Was 
she  sinking  to  the  second  place  in  her  friend's  affec 
tion  ?  If  she  had  needed  stern  lessons  in  humility  and 
self-effacement,  she  was  receiving  them  now. 

"Self-effacement!"  The  word  came  to  her  so 
forcibly  one  day,  as  she  sat  in  the  attic  painting  a  land 
scape,  that  she  swept  her  brush  over  the  foreground 
and  blotted  it  out ;  feeling  that  she  must  illustrate  the 
idea  in  some  way,  to  see  what  it  stood  for.  A  neutral 
tint?  Very  well;  she  could  accept  that  instead  of 
rose-color.  She  could  stand  one  side,  and  be  content 
with  borrowed  happiness,  satisfied  to  subserve  in  all 
patience  and  good  cheer  the  destin}'  she  could  not 
change.  All  she  asked  was  to  have  a  reasonably  clear 
forecast  of  that  destiny ;  and  she  thought  it  was  high 
time  to  have  it. 

But  Evelyn  remained  quietly  reserved  and  inscruta 
ble.  Uncertainties  were  grievous  to  Theodate ;  the}7 
tried  her  nerves,  and  wore  upon  her  health. 

"  If  only  this  had  been  settled  when  Mr.  Kirke  was 
in  Boston  last  winter,"  she  said  to  herself,  little  dream 
ing  that  the  time  was  soon  to  come  when  even  she 
would  rejoice  that  it  had  not  been  settled,  when  she 
would  agree  with  Evelyn  that  it  is  well  for  a  woman 
to  move  slowly  in  an  affair  that  involves  her  life's 
happiness. 


DRONES'  HONEY.  223 

Thus  far  Mr.  Kirke  seemed  to  be  fulfilling  every 
expectation  of  his  friends ;  and  Mr.  Scarle  was  fond 
of  repeating  what  the  Danforths  of  Boston  had  said  of 
him  last  spring ;  how  promptly  and  manfully  he  had 
risen  to  the  occasion  when  his  father  died,  and  he  was 
left  administrator  of  a  badly  involved  estate.  He 
might  find  legal  affairs  irksome  ;  but  he  certainly  under 
stood  them  well  enough  for  all  practical  purposes,  and 
was  still  engaged,  in  the  intervals  of  his  studies,  in 
looking  over  accounts  ;  would  come  to  Chicago  in  No 
vember  for  a  final  adjustment ;  and  in  December  — 
Evelyn  assured  Theodate  it  would  not  be  a  day  sooner 
—  he  was  to  visit  Narransauc,  and  receive  the  fateful 
answer  from  her  lips. 

"Six  weeks  longer!  But,  if  he  can  wait,  surely  I 
can  wait,"  thought  Theodate. 

There  had  been  no  especial  changes  in  the  village 
for  the  past  year,  except  that  a  few  of  the  residents 
had  dropped  quietly  away,  — among  the  number  good, 
unamiable  aunt  Ann  Searle,  —  and  the  others  were  all 
growing  older.  Ozro  was  in  college.  He  had  passed 
through  the  haziugs,  active  and  passive,  broken  a  finger 
or  two  at  base-ball,  and  was  gradually  developing  some 
humility,  and  respect  for  those  inferior  people,  his  elders. 

And  now  we  come  to  a  sudden  break  in  the  quiet 
tenor  of  our  story.  It  was  a  mild  day  in  October, 
when  the  silver  poplars  on  the  bank  were  half  turned 
to  gold,  and  the  bright  maple-leaves  were  dropping  in 
tha  sun  like  gold-dust.  Evelyn,  in  the  arm-chair  by 
the  south  window,  looked  up  from  the  book  she  was 
reading,  "The  Life  of  Mme.  de  Stael,"  saying  to 
Theodate,  "  I  dare  not  read  another  word,  for  fear  of 


224  DRONES'  HONEY. 

committing  a  murder  in  my  heart.  I  am  fairly  trem 
bling  with  rage  against  Napoleon  Bonaparte." 

She  remembered  this  speech  afterward,  in  the  long 
days  when  she  was  no  longer  able  to  forget  herself  in 
a  book. 

As  she  looked  up,  her  eyes  rested  on  the  bass-wood 
tree  near  the  window.  Two  birds  were  clinging  to  a 
nearly  leafless  bough,  and  the  wind  rocked  them  ;  but 
there  was  no  motion  otherwise,  except  the  quiet  twin 
kling  of  their  small  eyes.  Then  Theodate  began  to 
talk  of  the  photograph  of  Mr.  Kirke's  mother,  which 
he  had  sent,  and  laughed  a  little  at  the  young  man's 
harmless  delusion  in  thinking  it  resembled  Evelyn,  the 
two  faces  being  unlike  in  every  particular  ;  and  Evelyn 
laughed,  too,  with  careless  mirth. 

"  And  now  how  shall  I  frame  this  for  the  parlor?  " 
went  on  Theodate,  holding  up  a  water-color  picture  of 
violets.  "Would  you  approve  of  an  oak  frame,  with 
a  coat  of  gilding,  and  around  the  violets  a  deep  mat, 
postal-card  color?  " 

Evelyn  meekly  assented,  with  restful  confidence  in 
Theodate's  judgment ;  though  the  confidence  would  have 
been  the  same  under  any  combination  of  colors. 

Then  Mr.  Searle  came  in,  his  face  lighting  up  as 
Evelyn  rose  to  greet  him.  Had  she  been  to  tea,  and 
would  she  like  to  walk  out  with  him  and  see  the  sunset 
from  the  "  crest "  ?  Oh,  yes,  she  had  had  her  tea,  and 
would  like  the  walk ;  for  "  sunsets  are  joys  that  never 
grow  old  ' '  ! 

This  reminds  Theodate  to  look  at  Mr.  Searle,  and 
observe  regretfully  that  his  hair  and  beard  are  fast 
whitening  with  the  "  snow  that  never  melts." 


DRONES'  HONEY.  22$ 

He  has  mourned  for  his  wife  more  than  might  have 
been  anticipated,  considering  the  wreck  she  made  of 
his  life.  But  he  thinks  of  her  now  as  the  ideal  love 
of  his  youth  ;  and  is  he  wrong?  There  was  something 
at  the  very  root  of  her  being  that  was  revealed  to  him 
as  to  no  other;  and  his  heart  responded  to  it,  and  knew 
it  was  not  deceived.  She  had  her  uncomfortable  faults  ; 
but  more  and  more  he  forgives  the  weakness  of  the 
flesh,  and  more  and  more  he  remembers  that  "  spirit  is 
always  lovely." 

Evelyn  was  in  a  happy  mood  this  evening,  as  she 
put  on  her  hat  and  walked  up  the  well-worn  hill  path 
with  her  uncle.  He  depended  more  than  ever  upon 
her  society  of  late ;  and  she  often  fancied,  that,  when 
he  seemed  unusually  depressed,  her  own  spirits  rose 
inversely. 

As  they  passed  the  back-door,  she  "smiled  one  of 
those  smiles"  on  Rosa  and  Peter,  who  stood  watching 
a  squirrel  on  the  lightning-rod,  making  a  dainty  meal 
of  pig-weed  seed.  In  her  sweet  benevolence  she  was 
glad  that  the  little  red  squirrel  should  enjoj*  Violet 
Hill,  as  well  as  the  phebes  and  sparrows,  and  Peter 
and  Rosa.  A  lean  and  hungry  cat  issued  from  the 
stable,  and  crept  abjectly  after  her.  The  poor  thing 
had  "adopted  her,"  Evelyn  said;  and  though  she 
assured  him  he  was  "not  welcome,"  and  admonished 
him  as  sternly  as  she  could  to  go  away,  he  construed 
her  gentle  tones  into  an  invitation,  and  only  drew 
still  nearer  his  "adopted"  friend,  rubbing  his  cheek 
against  her  dress,  till  Rosa  came,  laughing,  and  took 
him  away. 

Mr.  Searle  looked  on  amused ;  and  then  the  thought 


226  DRONES'  HONEY. 

arose  in  his  mind,  was  this  lovely  woman  destined  to 
spend  her  whole  life  in  this  simple  way,  blessing  and 
sweetening  the  atmosphere  of  home,  but  never  extend 
ing  her  influence  beyond  the  narrow  round  of  Violet 
Hill  and  the  neighboring  village?  He  had  had  am 
bitious  hopes  for  her,  and  not  long  ago  had  been  well 
pleased  to  watch  what  he  considered  a  growing  attach 
ment  between  herself  and  Ben  Kirke.  But  this  had 
come  to  nothing  so  far  as  he  knew,  and  perhaps  after 
all  it  was  quite  as  well.  He  did  not  hold  the  stereo 
typed  notion  that  marriage  is  the  only  good  for  woman, 
and  that  without  it  her  life  is  perforce  a  dismal  failure. 
He  was  an  enlightened  person,  who  could  appreciate 
high  character  in  a  young  lad}',  and  still  say  to  himself 
inquiringly,  — 

"  Would  she  have  walked  more  nobly,  think, 

With  a  man  beside  her  to  point  the  way,  — 
Hand  joining  hand  in  the  marriage  link  ? 
Possibly  yes;  it  is  likelier  nay. 

And  dreads  she  never  the  coming  years  ? 

Gossip,  what  are  the  years  to  her  ? 
All  winds  are  fair,  and  the  harbor  nears, 

And  every  breeze  a  delight  will  stir. 

She  reads  the  Hereafter  by  the  Here, 

A  beautiful  Now  and  a  better  To  Be. 
In  life  is  all  sweetness,  in  death  no  fear: 

Ye  waste  your  pity  on  such  as  she." 

Still,  he  would  not  have  quoted  these  lines  as  apply 
ing  to  his  niece,  he  could  not  have  told  you  why  ; 
he  would  have  thought  them  more  appropriate  to  Theo- 
date,  for  whom  he  had  always  felt  the  highest  admira 
tion,  amounting  almost  to  reverence. 


DRONES1  HONEY.  22/ 

"Evelyn,"  said  he,  after  the  sun  had  finally  disap 
peared  from  view,  with  its  lingering  pageant  of  glory, 
and  they  were  descending  the  hill  toward  the  village, 
"  Evelyn,  I  saw  Mr.  Danforth  the  other  day,  in  Boston, 
and  he  spoke  of  our  old  friend  Mr.  Kirke." 

"Ah!"  said  Evelyn  with  a  pretty,  rising  color. 
Her  uncle  seldom  alluded  to  the  young  man,  and  might 
or  might  not  be  aware  of  her  correspondence  with  him. 
But,  at  any  rate,  he  was  too  formal  and  too  well-bred 
to  condescend  to  rally  her  on  the  subject. 

' '  Yes  ;  and  they  sa}'  Ben  is  getting  a  good  deal  of 
what  you  ma}'  call  surreptitious  practice  already  among 
Dr.  Palmer's  old  patients ;  for  the  doctor  is  failing  in 
health,  and  Ben  has  gained  their  confidence  by  some 
pretty  good  work  he  has  done  there.  Let's  see,  what's 
the  name  of  the  place?  Drogheda?  Well,  Mr.  Dan 
forth  says  he  has  performed  some  rather  remarkable 
surgical  operations  out  there.  He  gave  me  the  par 
ticulars,  which  wouldn't  interest  yon,  of  course ;  but 
I  assure  you,  Evelyn,  I  was  astonished, — yes,  fairly 
astonished." 

"I  am  very  glad,"  said  Evelyn  with  a  shy  smile 
of  pleasure.  "  You  remember  we  thought  he  did  won 
derfully  when  Mr.  Simpson's  Tom  met  with  that  acci 
dent,  and  we  said  then  he  was  meant  for  a  doctor." 

"Certainly  we  did;  and  we  said  it  again  with  still 
more  conviction  afterward,  when  you  —  at  the  time  he 
saved  your  life,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Searle,  his  voice 
low  with  emotion.  "  I  admit  I  did  not  like  his  throw 
ing  up  law  :  it  struck  me  as  disrespectful  to  the  profes 
sion  ;  but  he  was  right,  as  it  has  proved,  perfectly 
right.  He  talked  with  me  about  it  at  the  time,  and 


228  DRONES'  HONEY. 

seemed  to  look  at  the  thing  in  all  its  bearings  ;  and  I 
respected  him  for  his  courage.  He  had  started  wrong, 
he  said,  and  the  only  thing  he  could  do  was  to  begin 
anew  and  start  right.  But  he  did  not  realize  then  how 
hard  it  was  going  to  be  for  him  financially,"  continued 
Mr.  Searle,  who  seemed  to  have  the  conversation  most 
ly  to  himself.  "  You  see  he  had  a  very  advantageous 
position  with  Mr.  Randall,  one  of  the  best  technical 
lawyers  anywhere,  and  they  could  easily  have  led  the 
profession  in  Chicago,  if  he  had  not  made  this  change 
of  base  before  he  knew  how  things  were  going  to  turn 
with  his  father." 

"  I  wonder,"  said  Evelyn  reflectively,  "if  he  had 
not  made  the  change  before  his  father's  death,  would 
he  have  made  it  at  all  ?  " 

"I  have  thought  of  that  myself,"  returned  Mr. 
Searle.  "  It  takes  courage,  at  any  time,  to  leave  a 
certainty  for  an  uncertainty  ;  and  when  he  had  that 
worm-eaten  estate  on  his  hands" —  He  shook  his 
head  slowly,  b}'  way  of  finishing  the  sentence. 

Evelyn  looked  thoughtful.  Perhaps  she  had  never 
comprehended  fully  Ben  Kirke's  difficult  position  and 
the  struggle  he  was  making.  She  had  been  very  glad 
that  he  held  to  his  resolution,  and  she  had  told  him 
so  ;  but  it  had  probably  cost  him  more  than  she  knew  ; 
and  she  meant  to  say  in  her  next  letter  that  he  rose 
higher  in  her  esteem  when  she  thought  how  much  he 
had  sacrificed  for  conscience'  sake. 

"  He  has  made  no  moan,  so  far  as  I  know ;  and  I 
like  that  in  him,"  pursued  uncle  Mellen.  "He  was 
born  to  a  fortune,  and  that  is  a  state  of  things  neither 
you  nor  I  can  very  well  appreciate." 


DRONES'  HONEY.  229 

"  No,  we  were  not  born  to  fortunes,  uncle,  —  we 
Searles." 

"  And  to  lose  it  at  a  stroke  was  severe  for  Ben. 
Think  of  Ozro  under  the  same  circumstances." 

"  Oh,  Ozro !  "  said  Evelyn  with  a  sort  of  mild  con 
tempt. 

"  Ozro  would  probably  have  done  as  well  as  the 
average  young  man,"  responded  the  proud  parent 
quickly;  "  but  he  wouldn't  have  faced  the  situation 
without  some  grumbling,  I  assure  3*ou." 

Evelyn  quite  agreed  that  he  would  not ;  and  then  she 
fell  into  a  brown  study  over  Ben's  last  letter.  There 
had  been  an  allusion  in  it,  almost  for  the  first  time,  to 
his  narrow  fortunes,  and  the  tedious  delays  of  study. 
Had  he  ever  repented  leaving  Mr.  Randall,  and  begin 
ning  the  world  anew  at  the  very  foot  of  the  ladder? 
She  had  asked  this  question  before ;  and  now  she  pon 
dered  it  again,  walking  on  in  silence  till  they  were 
passing  the  Druid,  when  she  paused  and  said, — 

"Suppose  we  go  in  here  a  moment,  uncle  Mellen? 
I  am  under  a  solemn  promise  to  Rosa  to  beg  Mrs. 
Simpson's  recipe  for  imperial  cake." 

So  they  went  in.  Mrs.  Simpson  was  glad  to  see 
them,  and  asked  them  into  the  back  parlor,  where  the 
old  piano  stood,  that  always  so  excited  Evelyn's  imagi 
nation.  She  liked  to  turn  back  the  faded  cloth  cover 
and  touch  the  sallow  keys,  calling"  forth  the  thin,  re 
gretful  melody  of  other  days ;  and  Mrs.  Simpson  said 
it  was  "  reviving  to  hear  her  :  it  brought  up  her  girls, 
more  particularly  Betsey."  "  Would  Evelyn  take  off 
her  bonnet?" 

"Oh,  yes!"  Mr.  Simpson  said.     "Why  not  stay 


230  DRONES'  HONEY. 

awhile?  Tom  was  in  the  office,  and  on  duty ;  and  they 
could  have  a  social  evening  all  by  themselves." 

And  partly  from  good-nature,  partly  from  the  lack 
of  any  real  excuse  for  going,  they  both  lingered. 
Evelyn  laid  aside  her  hat,  and  fell  into  light  discourse 
with  Mrs.  Simpson  ;  while  her  uncle  discussed  graver 
matters  with  the  host. 

In  the  midst  of  some  animated  remarks  from  the  old 
lady,  concerning  the  imperial  cake,  Evelyn  heard  Mr. 
Simpson,  who  seemed  abnormally  wide-awake,  say  to 
Mr.  Searle,  — 

"  I  got  all  kind  of  nerved  up  to-night  by  a  paper 
that  came  to  me  from  Californy.  —  Wife,  where's  that 
paper  ? ' ' 

In  vain  were  conjugal  glances  of  warning  and  en 
treaty,  in  vaiif  the  attempt  to  divert  Mr.  Simpson's 
attention  to  other  matters :  he  still  clamored  for  the 
"  Californy  paper."  And  Evetyn  wondered  a  little  at 
first,  and  presently  a  good  deal,  why  Mrs.  Simpson 
should  be  so  slow  and  reluctant  about  producing  it. 
She  finally  found  it  under  the  piano-cover,  where 
Evelyn  could  not  but  think  she  had  hurriedly  placed 
it  when  they  first  came  in,  for  the  purpose  of  conceal 
ment. 

"  I  never  had  any  thing  stir  me  up  so,"  pursued  Mr. 
Simpson,  "  not  since  that  scrape  of  Martin  Field's  ;  " 
and  his  eyes  fairly  snapped  with  excitement  as  he 
opened  the  paper  and  ran  up  and  down  several  columns 
with  his  finger.  "  Let's  see,  'twas  marked  with  red 
ink.  Oh,  I've  got  the  wrong  page !  I  always  set  by 
that  fellow  Kirke  ;  as  likely  a  fellow  as  ever  breathed, 
I  thought  he  was.  There,  I've  found  it:  here  it  is." 


DRONES'  HONEY.  231 

"  Not  Ben  Kirke  of  Chicago?  What  has  he  done?  " 
exclaimed  Mr.  Searle. 

Evelyn  instinctively  drew  back  into  the  shade. 
"  Dear  me.  I  was  of  mid  there  was  something 
between  'em,"  thought  Mrs.  Simpson.  "  How  pale 
she  is,  poor  lamb !  I  hope  she  ain't  going  to 
faint." 

The  newspaper  was  the  "  Drogheda  Pioneer,"  and 
it  contained  the  following  startling  announcement :  — 

"A  DARK  TRANSACTION. 

"  A  bold  attempt  to  raise  money  by  forgery  has  just  been 
discovereJ.  Mr.  James  Hall  of  Maysville,  four  miles  from 
Drogheda,  recently  bought  from  B.  I.  Kirke  of  this  city  —  Dr. 
Palmer's  medical  student  —  a  promissory  note  for  two  thousand 
dollars,  signed  by  John  Harris  and  Peter  Small  of  this  city. 
When  Mr.  Hall  presented  the  note  at  the  Farmers'  Bank,  some 
doubts  were  expressed  as  to  its  genuineness;  and  Harris  was 
telephoned,  who  came  in,  and,  on  being  shown  the  note,  at  once 
pronounced  it  a  forgery.  Small  afterwards  denied  his  signature, 
also.  Mr.  Kirke  has  been  hitherto  much  respected;  but  his 
guilt  admits  of  no  doubt,  and  he  was  immediately  arrested,  and 
remains  now  in  close  confinement." 


232  DRONES'  HONEY. 


XX. 

"  I  will  rise, 

God  helping  me,  to  higher  life,  and  f/uin 
C'onruf/e  and  strength  to  i/ivc  thee  in  thy  pain, 
year  not,  dear  love :  thy  trial  hour  xhall  be 
The  dearest  bond  between  my  heart  and  thee." 

"  TTTHOSE  saying  was  that,  '  Every  man  has  his 
W  price'  ?"  asked  Theoclate  of  Mr.  Searle,  as 
they  sat  next  evening  by  the  open  fire  in  the  back 
parlor.  Evelyn  had  sent  her  love  to  her  uncle,  and  was 
sorry  not  to  see  him  ;  but  she  had  suffered  all  day  from 
a  headache,  which  did  not  "  go  down  with  the  sun." 

"  Wai  pole,  I  think,"  replied  Mr.  Searle  with  a 
pained  frown  between  the  eyes.  "A  hard  and  bitter 
saying  it  is,  too  ;  I  never  indorsed  it."  They  had  been 
discussing  Ben  Kirke's  alleged  crime,  which  Miss 
Wilder  vehemently  declared  "  incredible,"  and  which 
Mr.  Searle  admitted  was  "staggering." 

"  What  a  signal  mercy  that  Evelyn  was  not  inter 
ested  in  the  fellow !  "  he  thought,  though  this  he  did 
not  say  to  Theodate. 

"•  It  is  an  acute  disappointment  to  me  that  Judge 
Kirke's  son  should  turn  out  a  villain.  I  knew  the  judge 
well,  and  he  was  certainly  the  soul  of  honor." 

tfc  And  I  had  faith  in  Ben,  and  would  have  gone  to 
the  stake  on  it,"  returned  Miss  Wilder,  sitting  very 
erect  in  her  chair. 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure.     And  it  was  only  last  week  that 


DRONES'  HONEY.  233 

the  Danforths  were  lauding  him  to  the  skies.  Well, 
well,  I  hate  to  give  up  the  boy,"  said  Mr.  Searle  with 
an  outward  wave  of  both  hands,  as  if  regretfully 
flinging  him  away. 

Theodate  sighed,  and  gazed  into  the  fire.  A  large, 
wicked-looking  red  brand,  about  to  fall  headlong  upon 
the  hearth,  personated  Mr.  Kirke  on  the  way  to  ruin. 

"  He  promised  well,"  said  Mr.  Searle,  "  but  was 
not  sound  at  the  core.  He  could  not  stand  the  test  of 
sudden  poverty." 

"  Yet,"  contended  Theodate,  "  I  never  saw  any  one 
who  seemed  to  care  less  for  money." 

The  lawyer  smiled  slowly  and  sagely.  "When  you 
knew  him,  he  had  not  learned  the  value  of  money. 
He  had  all  he  cared  for  then,  and  much  more  than  he 
needed.  It  was  only  after  he  went  down  in  the  world 
that  he  fell  into  temptation." 

"  Still,  I  can't  understand  it,  Mr.  Searle.  To  say 
nothing  of  his  principles,  he  certainly  has  excellent 
sense ;  and  that  forgery  was  so  sure  to  be  found  out. 
Why,  how  dared  he?" 

"  It  was  foolish,  but  forgeries  are  usually  foolish. 
I  suppose  he  had  no  idea  that  the  note  would  be 
presented  at  the  bank  in  Drogheda." 

"  Do  you  know  any  one  in  that  city,  Mr.  Searle?  " 

' '  No  ;  why  do  you  ask  ?  ' ' 

"  If  there  were  only  some  person  there  you  could 
write  to.  Isn't  it  barely  possible  this  may  be  a  mis 
take?"  Theodate  looked  up  wistfully.  Only  yester 
day  Mr.  Kirke  had  been  in  a  sort  her  natural  enemy, 
the  one  being  in  the  world  she  had  cause  to  dread. 
To-day  he  was  beneath  contempt ;  but,  strange  to  say, 


234  DRONES'  HONEY. 

she  would  have  laid  down  her  life  to  give  him  back  the 
power  to  make  her  unhappy.  The  reason  of  this  was 
not  far  to  seek.  She  knew  now,  by  Evelyn's  silent 
anguish,  that  her  heart  had  been  given  to  the  keeping 
of  this  villain. 

"A  mistake?  I  am  afraid  not,"  returned  Mr. 
Searle  with  a  decisive  shake  of  the  head.  "  A  man 
isn't  apt  to  be  arrested  for  forgery  by  mistake.  Ben 
is  well  known  in  Drogheda  by  this  time,  and  his  iden 
tity  cannot  be  questioned.  I  am  sorry  to  say  there  is 
a  moral  certainty  of  his  guilt." 

Mr.  Searle  was  a  lawj^er  of  judgment  and  experi 
ence,  not  a  person  to  leap  to  hasty  conclusions  ;  and 
Theoclate  sighed  again,  and  looked  into  the  fire. 

But  there  was  an  element  of  strong  persistency  in 
her  character ;  and,  without  saying  more  to  Mr.  Searle, 
she  wrote  that  very  night  to  the  "  Postmaster,  Drog 
heda,"  asking  the  simple  question,  whether  the  item 
which  she  quoted  from  the  "Drogheda  Pioneer"  was 
true  or  false.  If  false,  how  she  should  rejoice  to  say 
so  to  Evelyn,  poor,  pale  child,  who  kept  about  her  daily 
tasks  with  pathetic  patience,  and  had  but  once  men 
tioned  the  name  of  Ben  Kirke,  and  that  was  when  she 
told  Thcodate  the  shameful  story. 

Many  days  elapsed,  and  Theoclate  began  to  think 
the  postmaster  had  not  received  her  letter,  or,  if  he 
had,  did  not  mean  to  reply.  But  finally  an  answer 
came,  extinguishing  the  last  faint  ray  of  hope.  "  The 
item  quoted  was  true  in  every  particular,"  he  said. 
That  was  all,  but  it  was  more  than  enough.  Theodate 
never  told  Evelyn  that  she  had  written. 

Evelyn  said  one  day,  in  a  low  voice,  averting  her 


DRONES'  HONEY.  235 

head,  "  I  think  it  is  time  I  should  return  Mr.  Kirke's 
letters." 

It  was  now  November,  a  month  before  he  was  to 
have  received  his  final  answer. 

"Yes,"  responded  Theodate. 

What  an  immense  package  the  letters  made,  and  now 
how  worthless  !  Evelyn  had  not  trusted  herself  to  look 
them  over,  and  wished  to  forget  that  they  were  going 
to  a  man  who  occupied  a  prisoner's  cell. 

Some  time  after  this,  Theodate  saw  her  remail  a 
fresh  letter  from  Mr.  Kirke,  unopened,  but  nothing  was 
said.  It  was  not  Evelyn's  way  to  chatter  upon  a  sub 
ject  which  lay  so  near  her  heart.  She  was  learning 
now,  when  all  was  over,  that  Ben  Kirke,  with  many 
minor  faults,  had  been  after  all  her  ideal  of  a  true  and 
noble  man,  the  man  she  could  honor  and  —  let  us  say 
it  clearly  —  love. 

She  put  away  this  ideal  reverently,  as  one  buries 
the  dead ;  but  the  real  Ben  Kirke,  the  unprincipled 
being  living  in  California  and  committing  cold  and 
shameless  crimes,  what  had  she  ever  known  of  him? 
He  was  a  stranger.  It  had  pleased  him  to  masquerade 
at  Narrausauc ;  and  he  had  masqueraded  cleverly  — 
she  would  give  him  credit  for  that.  It  was  a  cruel 
game,  but  common,  she  believed,  with  "  men  of  the 
world."  Atj  least,  this  was  what  she  had  alwa3's 
heard ;  she  knew  very  little  herself  of  what  the  world 
really  is.  He  had  masqueraded,  and  completely  de 
ceived  her  and  all  the  other  simple  people  of  the  town. 
The  worst  anybody  had  ever  said  of  him  was  that  he 
was  "  a  drone  ;  "  and  she  smiled  to  think  how  even  that 
had  vexed  her,  and  how  resolved  she  had  been  not  to 


236  DRONES'  HONEY. 

care  for  him  unless  he  should  rouse  himself  and  go  to 
work. 

As  for  his  integrity,  she  had  never  even  questioned 
it.  That  goes  without  the  saying  among  decent  peo 
ple,  she  thought ;  forgetting,  alas,  that  defaulting  and 
forger}'  are  the  crimes  of  the  educated,  rather  than  the 
ignorant !  And  she  had  come  so  fearfully  near  accept 
ing  his  light  love !  She  was  thankful  now  for  the  slow 
reserve  and  coolness  of  her  nature,  which  had  saved 
her  from  that  utter  wreck. 

She  felt  no  resentment  toward  him :  he  was  more 
to  be  pitied  than  blamed ;  born  probably  with  a  total 
lack  of  moral  sense,  like  Martin  Field,  that  handsome, 
plausible  young  man  who  superintended  the  Sabbath 
school  at  Latium,  and  was  arrested  as  he  came  out  of 
prayer-meeting  for  a  sly  piece  of  swindling.  She 
could  not  hate  Mr.  Kirke.  Nothing  he  could  ever  do, 
or  fail  to  do,  would  take  from  her  the  overpowering 
gratitude  she  felt  to  him  for  having  saved  her  life. 
Life  was  dear,  though  it  must  be  admitted  it  did  not 
seem  to  her  just  now  the  priceless  boon  she  had  been 
wont  to  regard  it.  No,  she  could  not  hate  the  man 
who  had  saved  her  life.  Besides,  he  loved  her :  she 
never  doubted  that ;  not  very  deeply  or  very  worthily, 
merely  in  the  careless,  shallow  fashion  of  men  of  his 
sort.  But  no  woman  ever  quite  scorns  the  man  who 
loves  her.  What  she  had  to  do  now  was  to  put  him 
out  of  her  thoughts.  She  would  not  discuss  him  with 
any  one,  least  of  all  with  Theodate,  whose  eyes  flashed 
dangerously  at  the  chance  mention  of  his  name.  Theo 
date  was  naturally  hard  upon  sinners ;  and  Ben  Kirke 
was  an  unspeakable  sinner,  who  had  aspired  —  what 


DRONES'  HONEY.  237 

sacrilege! — to  the  hand  of  Evelyn  Searle.  His  crime 
of  forgery  was  black  enough  in  an}*  light,  but  tenfold 
blacker  when  you  connected  him  in  your  mind  with 
that  spotless,  radiant  woman.  Theodate  could  for 
give  royally  an  injury  to  herself, — that  is,  upon  the 
offender's  showing  due  repentance,  —  but  an  injury  to 
Evelyn  was  another  matter :  she  had  no  intention  of 
even  trying  to  forgive  it. 

Moreover,  a  certain  feeling  of  self-blame  intensified 
her  bitterness.  If  she  had  not  espoused  the  young 
man's  cause  so  warmly,  perhaps  Evelyn  would  have 
forgotten  him  long  ago,  and  so  have  escaped  this  fiery 
trial. 

"Was  I  born  to  commit  blunders?"  thought  poor 
Theodate. 

Though  Evelyn  never  alluded  in  the  most  distant 
manner  to  Mr.  Kirke,  her  silence  regarding  him  was 
eloquent,  and  appealed  to  Theodate's  heart.  In  one 
thing,  if  in  no  other,  the  two  friends  were  alike,  — they 
were  not  given  to  idle  complainings  and  weak  tears. 

Evelyn  made  a  thousand  excuses  for  her  pre-occupa- 
tion  and  sadness.  Either  the  weather  was  oppressive, 
or  her  brain  was  tired,  or  her  stories  "  would  not  write." 
And,  try  her  best,  Theodate  found  she  had  lost  the 
power  of  re-assuring  her.  When  she  begged  her  not  to 
fret  over  a  rejected  manuscript,  for  she  "  had  noticed 
that  articles  which  had  met  with  reverses  in  their  youth 
were  apt  to  turn  out  brilliantly,"  Evelyn  said  "  In 
deed  !  "  with  quiet  irony. 

"•  Why,  yes.  Don't  you  remember  your  'Christmas 
Rose '  ?  The  great  American  traveller,  we  called  it ; 
but,  when  it  found  a  home  at  last,  how  much  it  was 


238  DRONES'  HONEY. 

admired  and  copied  !  Have  faith  in  yourself,  dear,  — 
if  you  cannot  in  man,"  she  added  mentally.  "  Think 
of  the  praise  you  have  received  from  the  very  highest 
sources." 

Evelyn  drew  the  fleecy  shawl  about  her,  —  she  wore 
that  shawl  now  when  the  weather  had  the  slightest 
chill,  —  and  recalled  the  words  she  had  lately  read  of 
Mme.  de  Stael :  "  Fame  for  woman  is  only  a  splendid 
mourning  for  happiness." 

Not  that  Evelyn  expected  ever  to  know  any  thing 
of  fame  from  her  own  experience.  She  could  only 
imagine  what  it  might  be  like  by  the  frequent  tokens 
of  appreciation  which  came  to  her  from  admiring 
strangers,  chiefly  enthusiastic,  fresh-hearted  girls  ;  and 
these  tokens  always  pleased  her.  Still,  she  knew  that 
the  same  thing,  immeasurably  increased  and  infinitely 
repeated,  could  never  fill  her  life  or  satisfy  her  heart. 

"What  do  I  care  for  praise,  Theodate?  A  mere 
breath  that  blows  warm  to-day  and  cool  to-morrow," 

The  weary  tone  touched  Theodate,  who  turned  her 
head  awa}',  saying  to  herself  in  the  words  of  stanch  old 
Mother  Bickcrdyke :  "Poor  thing!  But  she  has  two 
friends,  God  Almighty  and  me."  And  when  she  spoke 
again  it  was  to  relate  an  absurd  little  story,  which  she 
told  capitally ;  though  Evelyn  rather  failed  to  see  the 
point,  and  hoped  Theodate  was  not  falling  into  the  anec 
dotal  habit,  which  is  so  tedious  when  carried  to  excess. 

For  the  first  time  in  all  their  acquaintance,  Evelyn 
was  now  and  then  a  little  irritable,  suffering  keenly 
afterward  for  any  slight  petulance  toward  Theodate, 
who  for  her  part  never  heeded  it  in  the  least.  She 
was  absolutely  "  uuwouudable,"  or  so  she  would  have 


DRONES'  HONEY.  239 

it  appear.  In  her  continual  care  for  Evelyn,  and  her 
desire  to  drown  for  her  the  sorrow  which  they  could 
not  call  by  name,  Theodate  thought  seriously  of  a 
trip  to  Europe.  By  strict  economy  it  might  be  managed, 
she  believed,  and  a  year's  stay  abroad  would  work 
marvels  for  the  child.  As  for  herself,  —  if  she  had 
stopped  to  think  of  herself,  —  this  would  be  her  joy  of 
joys.  She  could  not  remember  the  time  when  she  had 
not  had  a  more  or  less  lively  longing  to  cross  the  sea 
for  study.  But  whenever  she  ventured  in  a  tentative 
way  to  speak  of  Europe,  Evelyn's  response  was  always 
a  shudder  and  a  gentle  shake  of  her  head.  "Oh,  that 
dreadful  ocean  !  You  are  not  serious,  Theodate?  " 

"Do  you  expect  me  always  to  be  serious?  Can't 
we  have  our  little  jests?  "  smiled  Theodate,  concealing 
her  disappointment  and  crushing  back  her  unruly  wish, 
as  if  it  had  been  a  deadly  sin.  She  might  go  abroad 
alone  or  with  some  one  else  ;  she  had  friends  in  Bangor 
who  were  making  up  a  party.  But  she  would  not  go 
and  leave  Evelyn.  Evelyn  needed  her. 

Theodate  always  knew  infallibly  what  to  do.  She 
would  stay  where  she  was  needed. 

A  year  passed,  —  nearly  two  years.  It  was  some 
times  remarked  that  Evelyn  was  less  lively  than  for 
merly,  and  that  Theodate  did  not  look  well.  Yet  no 
one  ever  heard  Miss  Wilder  complain  ;  and  if  asked 
about  her  health,  she  seemed  surprised. 

"  What  did  they  mean?  Oh,  to  be  sure,  she  tvas  ill 
a  few  days  last  week  ;  but  that  did  not  signify  !  She 
had  been  subject  to  trifling  attacks  of  the  sort  from  a 
child." 

She  answered,  "  Oh,  no!  "  to  the  query,  "  Did  she 


240  DRONES'  HONEY. 

come  of  a  consumptive  family  ?  "  And  this  relieved  the 
friendly  anxiety  of  the  neighbors,  who  held  the  theory 
that  a  New  Englander  with  sound  lungs  is  entitled  to 
a  long  life,  unless  taken  off  by  accident. 

If  she  had  once  hinted  that  these  "  trifling  attacks  " 
concerned  that  vital  organ  the  heart,  Evelyn  would 
have  suffered  great  alarm  ;  and  what  was  the  need  of 
that,  when,  as  Theodate  trusted,  God  would  spare  her 
life  for  many  years  to  come?  "  I  will  not  be  mourned 
and  buried  till  1  die,"  she  thought;  "and  I  shall  die 
but  once." 

She  was  usually  in  fine  spirits,  the  life  of  the  house, 
Evelyn  declared  gratefully  ;  but  nobody  suspected  how 
restful  she  would  have  found  it  to  lie  down  after  her 
day's  work  sometimes,  and  only  close  her  e3-es,  or  at 
most  open  them  to  look  at  the  stars,  without  the  effort 
of  speaking.  But  it  was  always  in  the  evening  that 
their  little  strolls  were  taken  out  of  doors,  with  plenty 
of  pleasant  chat ;  or  old  friends  dropped  in,  and  Theo 
date  would  never  leave  the  burden  of  their  entertain 
ment  upon  Evelyn.  Evelyn  admired  and  wondered  at 
her  vivacious  friend,  and  leaned  upon  her  unconsciously 
more  and  more. 

"I'm  getting  on  in  years,"  said  she  playfully,  as 
they  sat  one  night  at  tea.  "  As  we  grow  older,  I  think 
we  recede  within  ourselves,  like  dim  pictures.  At  least, 
it  is  so  with  me ;  but  as  for  you,  Theodate,  you  are 
perennial." 

"  If  you  are  growing  dim,  my  dear,  you  need  to  be 
retouched,"  said  Theodate  with  a  professional  look; 
"  retouched  and  freshened,  say,  by  sea-air.  Take  my 
advice,  and  run  away  to  the  islands  with  your  uncle." 


DRONES'  HONEY.  241 

"  But  it  is  you  who  are  ill,  Theodate.  Will  you  go 
too?" 

"I?     Oh,  not  at  present!  "  with  calm  decision. 

A  half  smile  crossed  Evelyn's  face. 

"  Now,  Theodate,  tell  me  truly,  do  you  mind  that 
foolish  gossip  about  you  and  uncle  Mellen?  " 

tk  Not  one  bit;  do  you?  People  ought  to  know  I 
wouldn't  marry  Mr.  Searle  without  his  consent,"  replied 
Theodate  with  her  wholesome,  inspiriting  laugh. 

She  had  never  stood  much  in  awe  of  Mrs.  Grundy ; 
and  if  that  amiable  creature  chose  to  chatter  and  sur 
mise  because  Mr.  Searle  kept  on  calling  at  Violet  Hill 
since  his  wife  died  just  as  he  had  called  there  before, 
why,  then,  so  much  the  worse  for  Mrs.  Grundy. 

"  No,  Evelyn,  it  is  these  slow  pictures.  I  cannot 
take  them,  and  I  will  not  leave  them.  Only  think, 
how  that  miserable  bit,  '  Drones'  Honey,'  has  clung  to 
my  hands." 

4 1  A  painting  with  such  a  name  is  doomed  from  the 
beginning  ;  throw  it  awa3',"  said  Evelyn,  with  a  sort  of 
contemptuous  pity  for  herself  as  she  remembered  the 
happy  day  when  she  and  Mr.  Kirke  had  discussed  the 
meaning  of  those  words,  which  now  served  Theodate 
as  a  text  for  one  of  her  rustic  sketches. 

Poor,  unprincipled  Mr.  Kirke !  His  whole  life  had 
been  an  irregular,  idle  quest  for  drones'  honey,  which 
had  proved  a  bitter  morsel  to  his  tongue  at  last. 

"  Theodate,  your  industry  is  something  appalling ; 
and  you  are  not  well,  though  you  will  never  let  me  say 
so,"  said  Evelyn,  looking  anxiously  across  the  table  at 
her  friend's  face. 

During    the   past    year   its   dark   pallor   was   more 


242  DRONES'  HONEY. 

noticeable  than  ever ;  and  her  ears,  alwa}'s  very  white, 
had  now  the  translucence  of  thinnest  porcelain. 

"It  is  you,  Theodate,  who  need  the  change,  not  I," 
removing  the  napkin  from  a  glass  of  delicate  orange 
jelly,  and  passing  the  glass  to  her  friend  with  a  winsome 
smile. 

Theodate  had  been  making  a  mere  pretence  of  eat 
ing,  but  the  jelly  was  an  agreeable  surprise. 

"Thank  you,  dear,  it  is  delicious.  How  can  you 
always  be  thinking  to  do  such  pleasant  little  things  ? 
Last  night  it  was  broiled  pigeon,  and  the  day  before  it 
was  lemon  jelly  with  rose-flavored  custard.  It  is  beau 
tiful  of  you,  but  rather  absurd  since  I  am  so  very  well, 
you  know." 

"  Yes,  I  know  how  well  you  are.  I  never  saw  any 
one  so  superlative!}'  well  in  all  my  life.  It  is  remarked 
upon  throughout  the  village,"  said  Evelyn  dryly,  but 
with  such  tender  solicitude  in  her  tones  that  Theodate 
could  easily  have  dropped  her  head  in  her  hands  and 
wept  from  sheer  love  and  gratitude.  But  that  would 
never  do,  she  told  herself ;  she  hoped  she  was  not  such 
a  weak  bit  of  flesh  as  that. 

"  Oh,  fie !  I  am  over- petted,  that  is  all,"  said  she 
presently,  dipping  her  spoon  into  the  jelly  with  great 
composure.  "Beside,  I  intend  to  meet  you  at  the 
islands  by  and  by.  I  only  want  you  to  go  first  and 
pave  the  way." 

"But  why,"  asked  Evelyn,  chafing  against  this 
steady  persistence,  and  all  the  more  since  she  knew  it 
was  sure  to  win  in  the  end.  "  Why  should  I  go  first? 
Why  should  I  not  wait  till  you  are  ready,  may  I  ask?" 

"  Because,  for  one  thing,  you  are  better  without  me 


DRONES'  HONEY. 


243 


for  a  little  while,"  declared  Theodate,  in  measured 
tones,  but  smiling  cheerily. 

"  What  can  you  mean,  Theodate?  " 

"  Only  that  we  are  too  much  shut  in,  dear,  to  our 
selves,  with  very  little  from  outside  to  divert  us.  We 
re-act  upon  each  other,  and  reflect  each  other's  moods ; 
and  though  we  are  both  remarkably  brilliant  and  origi 
nal,"  with  a  droll  face,  "  our  mental  health  requires 
that  we  should  separate,  now  and  then,  for  a  season." 

"Thank  you,"  returned  Evelyn,  in  a  pretty,  half- 
petulant  way.  "  And  it  is  I  who  must  go?  " 

"  It  is  you  who  write  stories,  little  girl.  Don't  you 
always  say  you  find  an  inspiration  in  new  scenes  and 
new  people?  " 

Evelyn  did  not  respond  for  a  moment.  She  was 
thinking  of  a  rock  near  Dillon's  Island,  dashed  upon 
at  high  tide  by  the  rising  spra}*,  and  thinking  what  a 
good  type  it  was  of  Theodate  withstanding  the  feeble 
pleadings  of  Evelyn.  An  unselfish,  grand,  and  every 
way  estimable  rock  was  Theodate ;  but  the  plaj'ful, 
futile  waves  might  as  well  consider  that  it  was  low  tide 
now,  and  subside  with  quiet  grace. 

"  Very  well,  you  have  extinguished  me  this  time, 
Miss  Date  ;  but  I  hope  you  will  allow  me  to  say  you  are 
not  in  the  least  capable  of  taking  care  of  yourself, 
and  my  heart  will  ache  for  you  all  the  while  I  am  gone. 
You  will  order  the  kitchen  fire  out,  and  subsist  upon 
crackers  and  milk,  for  aught  I  know,"  said  Evelyn,  in 
a  quivering  voice. 

This  was  the  last  sally  of  the  loving,  ineffectual 
spray,  as  it  sank  to  dead  low  tide.  It  was  to  be,  and 
she  accepted  it.  It  was  one  of  the  things  marked  out 


244  DRONES'  HONEY. 

from  the  beginning,  that  she  should  go  away  from 
Violet  Hill  and  leave  Theodate,  who  was  really  ill  and 
needed  her  care. 

But  how  little  do  even  the  tenderest  friends  know 
of  each  other,  after  all !  What  would  have  been 
Evelyn's  surprise  on  her  first  evening  with  her  uncle  at 
Dillon's  Island,  if  she  could  have  looked  in  at  her  own 
home  and  seen  Theodate  dispose  herself  upon  the  sofa, 
languidly  fold  her  hands,  and  say  pathetically, — 

"  Oh,  it  is  sweet  to  be  alone,  and  dare  to  feel 
tired!" 


DRONES'  HONEY.  245 


XXI. 

"  And  then  he  will  search  Jerusalem  with  lamps,  and  the  hidden 
thin(/s  of  darkness  Khali  be  brouaht  to  liaht,  and  the  arguments  of 

touyues  shall  be  hashed." 

THOMAS  A  KEMPIS. 

U/^\YSTERS   on  the  half -shell;    bottle  of   lager," 

^-^  ejaculated  Mr.  Fiske  to  the  colored  waiter, 
before  fairly  seating  himself  at  the  little  oval  table.  It 
was  his  favorite  restaurant  in  the  heart  of  New  York 
city  ;  and  the  servants  had  learned,  by  experience,  that 
delays  were  dangerous  when  serving  this  brisk  little 
patron,  who  ordered  his  dinners  as  breathlessly  as  a 
broker  screams  out  the  rise  and  fall  of  stocks  on  Wall 
Street. 

Nimble  young  John  shot  across  the  hall  like  a  ball 
from  a  gun  ;  but  before  he  could  possibly  return  even 
empty-handed,  the  very  unreasonable  customer  was 
seated  on  the  edge  of  his  chair,  twirling  his  hat,  and 
meditating  a  scathing  rebuke  for  the  delay. 

"•  By  all  the  powers  !  "  he  cried  next  moment,  spring 
ing  out  of  his  chair  and  darting  forward,  as  a  tall,  large 
gentleman  walked  leisurely  down  the  hall.  "  Kirke,  is 
that  you  ?  ' ' 

Dr.  Kirke  smiled  in  reply,  and  offered  his  hand. 
"  Glad  to  meet  you,  Joe.  I  was  going  to  look  you  up." 

"  Sit  down  here,  old  man,  and  let's  have  a  chat.  I've 
nothing  under  the  sun  to  do  for  au  hour.  Why,  where 


246  DRONES'  HONEY. 

did  you  drop  from?  How  natural  you  look  !  "  passing 
him  the  menu. 

"  I've  been  in  Chicago  a  day  or  two,  and  came  here 
on  a  little  matter  of  business,"  replied  Mr.  Kirke, 
taking  the  vacant  chair  opposite  his  friend,  and  deposit 
ing  his  hat  on  the  floor.  "  How  fares  it  with  you,  Joe? 
1  hope  you  are  well ;  "  for  the  young  man  was  slighter 
than  ever,  if  possible,  and  was  developing  a  tendency 
to  baldness,  while  a  sharp  groove  had  settled  in  his 
forehead  between  the  eyes. 

"Oh,  I'm  well!  —  So  you're  here  at  last,  John? 
—  Have  some  Baltimore  oysters,  Kirke?  They  roast 
them  here  to  a  turn." 

Dr.  Kirke  gave  his  order  to  the  boy,  with  a  look 
which  recognized  him  as  a  human  being,  and  stirred 
his  heart  with  gratitude.  Whatever  Ben  Kirke  might 
lack  in  sound  principle,  he  had  one  claim  to  nobility : 
he  was  always  a  gentleman  to  his  inferiors. 

"Yes,  I'm  well,"  repeated  Joe.  as  they  pursued 
their  little  dialogue,  undisturbed  by  the  clatter  around 
them. 

"  And  doing  well?" 

"Fairly  well.  I  have  a  chance  to  invest  in  lots  of 
schemes  on  commission." 

"  Why,  I  thought  you  were  an  editor,  Joe." 

"  So  I  am,  and  a  little  of  every  thing  else.  Fact 
is,"  with  a  burst  of  confidence,  "  I've  made  most  of 
in}7  money  shaving  notes."  This  with  a  covert  glance 
at  his  companion  out  of  the  side  of  his  eye. 

There  was  no  impropriety  in  the  shaving  of  notes ; 
but  the  time  had  been  when  Joe  would  hardly  have 
confessed  such  a  thing  to  Ben  Kirke,  whose  supposed 


DRONES'  HONEY.  247 

ideals  were  rather  too  lofty  for  that  sort  of  business. 
What  a  prig  Ben  used  to  be  !  But,  like  most  prigs,  he 
had  shown  his  true  colors  at  last ;  and  one  need  not 
scruple  now  to  talk  with  him  openly  about  little  mat 
ters  of  sharp  practice.  Joe  had  never  pretended  to 
be  virtuous  above  his  fellows ;  neither,  on  the  other 
hand,  had  he  ever  committed  a  crime. 

He  had  been  studying  Ben  ever  since  he  came  in, 
and  could  not  see  but  he  was  as  easy  and  self-pos 
sessed  as  ever.  What  was  he  made  of?  Well,  it 
might  not  have  injured  his  prospects  so  much,  after 
all,  that  trifling  irregularity  of  forging  a  note.  People 
in  those  new  countries  slide  over  such  things  pretty 
easily  ;  they  are  willing  to  let  you  live  down  your  sins 
and  mistakes.  Very  kind  of  them,  too.  Joe  would 
certainly  have  expected  to  see  Ben  present  a  somewhat 
abject  appearance.  He  must  be  poor,  and  ought  to 
look  shabby :  but  here  he  was,  as  well  clad  as  ever ; 
and  instead  of  stooping,  as  had  been  his  habit,  his 
shoulders  were  now  well  squared,  increasing  his  appar 
ent  height,  and  he  had  the  alert,  earnest  air  of  a  man 
who  has  enlisted  on  the  right  side,  has  no  past  to 
be  ashamed  of,  and  sees  a  grand  future  before  him. 

"Can't  understand  it,"  commented  Joe  mentally, 
with  decided  disapproval. 

"My  mother?  Oh,  she  died,  poor  thing,  a  year 
ago  !  I  tell  you,  Ben,  I  felt  that,  though  I  never  said 
much  about  it.  One  can't,  you  know.  Yes,  my  sister 
is  married  and  off  my  hands ;  married  to  Russell  Bar- 
bour.  You  remember  Russ? 

"What,  /  married?  No,  sir.  That's  a  luxury  that 
can't  be  afforded,  my  boy,"  said  Joe,  dropping  his 


248  DRONES'  HONEY. 

eyes.  He  was  not  the  romantic  youth  of  three  years 
ago,  and  was  wont  to  make  merry  over  most  of  his 
juvenile  absurdities.  But  perhaps  the  time  would 
never  come  when  he  would  cease  to  feel  uncomfortable 
at  the  thought  of  his  moou-struck  behavior  at  Narrau- 
sauc. 

"  And  now,  Kirke,  let  me  ask  you  a  few  questions. 
Turn  about  is  fair  play.  Married?" 

"No." 

"  I  rather  wonder  at  that.  Like  me,  you  can't 
afford  it,  eh?" 

There  was  no  answer  to  this,  and  Joe  proceeded : 
"  Did  you  stick  to  medicine?" 

"Yes,"  laconically. 

"  Well,  T  wasn't  at  all  sure  you  would.  Do  you 
know,  I  considered  you  a  mild  kind  of  idiot  for 
leaving  Randall.  Why,  he's  the  leading  lawyer  in 
Chicago." 

"  So  I  hear." 

"Well,  are  you  doing  much?  Come,  now,  be  as 
frank  as  I  have  been." 

"Yes;  I  had  the  advantage  of  fledging  under  Dr. 
Palmer's  wing,  and  was  well  started  in  practice  before 
he  died." 

"  I'll  warrant  it.  You  always  were  the  luckiest 
dog,"  muttered  Joe  with  a  rising  of  the  old  envy. 
"  And  now  you're  carrying  all  before  JTOU?  " 

"As  you  say  of  jrourself,  I  am  doing  fairly  well," 
was  the  modest  reply. 

And  Mr.  Fiske,  knowing  Ben  of  old,  needed  no 
other  assurance  that  he  had  had  exceptional  success. 
So  the  Drogheda  people,  bad  luck  to  them !  not  only 


DRONES'  HONEY.  249 

tolerated  swindlers,  but  received  them  into  the  bosom 
of  their  families  on  confidential  terms.  And  here  was 
he,  Joe  Fiske,  a  very  white  sinner  by  comparison,  but 
how  hard  life  had  gone  with  him !  Abominable,  con 
sidering  the  pains  he  had  taken  never  to  lie  or  cheat 
without  the  law  on  his  side. 

"  I've  had  some  hard  lines,  though,"  continued  Dr. 
Kirke,  laying  down  his  fork  and  preparing  to  be 
communicative,  as  he  saw  that  Joe  was  not  satisfied 
with  his  meagre  disclosures.  "  I  had  a  tough  experi 
ence,  the  first  year  I  was  out  there,  with  a  sharper." 

"Ah!" 

' '  A  fellow  of  precisely  my  size  and  figure  happened 
along  ;  and,  when  he  saw  me,  he  set  to  work  to  victim 
ize  me." 

"How  was  that?" 

"  Why,  he  did  me  the  honor  of  pretending  to  be  Ben 
Kirke ;  that  is,  he  posed  in  that  wa}*  before  a  few  peo 
ple  in  the  next  town,  who  barely  knew  me  by  sight." 

Joe  had  set  down  his  glass,  and  was  staring  hard 
across  the  table  at  his  friend,  who  went  on,  serenely 
unconscious. 

"  The  miserable  rascal  drew  up  a  note  for  two  thou 
sand  dollars,  running  to  me,  and  signed  by  two  of  the 
citizens  of  Drogheda.  He  copied  their  names  from  a 
couple  of  signs  on  the  street,  I  believe.  And  then  he 
took  the  note  to  Maysville,  and  sold  it  to  an  old  farmer 
for  part  of  a  share  in  a  gold-mine." 

"That  sounds  rather  thin,"  faltered  Joe.  "No 
farmer  of  common-sense  would  take  a  note  in  that  way 
from  a  stranger." 

"Oh,  he  thought  he  knew  the  man  well  enough ! 


250  DRONES'  HONEY. 

He  had  seen  me  once  or  twice  at  the  doctor's  office, 
and  the  resemblance  was  really  very  striking," 

"  But  did  he  give  the  deed  without  verifying?  " 

"To  be  sure.  He  was  an  honest,  simple-minded 
old  man,  and  I  suppose  it  never  occurred  to  him  to 
doubt  the  identity.  And  he  didn't  present  the  note  at 
the  bank  for  some  weeks,  and  by  that  time  the  scamp 
had  absconded." 

"  Well?  "  Joe's  voice  was  rather  faint. 

"  Oh,  I  had  a  pretty  hard  time  of  it  for  a  while,  •—  a 
pretty  hard  time !  I  was  kept  under  guard  for  some 
wreeks,  till  the  affair  was  cleared  up  satisfactorily. 
But,  Joe,  there  was  one  good  thing  about  it.  It  brought 
me  hosts  of  friends.  I  never  shall  forget  Hie  people 
who  rallied  round  me  in  my  hour  of  need,  —  never,  I 
assure  you."  There  was  moisture  in  Ben's  eyes,  but 
he  dashed  it  away  hurriedly.  "Well,  well,  I  don't 
know  when  I've  thought  of  this  before  ;  but  our  talk 
had  a  tendency  to  make  me  reminiscent,"  said  he,  roll 
ing  up  his  napkin,  and  apparently  the  subject  with  it, 
and  laying  them  both  on  the  table. 

"Glad  you  told  me.  It  was  quite  thrilling,"  re 
marked  Joe  ;  and  then  fell  into  a  fit  of  abstraction. 

Never  once  had  he  thought,  before  this,  of  doubting 
Ben's  guilt ;  but  it  was  all  clear  enough  now.  Ben  was 
not  only  innocent,  but  profoundly  ignorant  that  the 
story  had  ever  travelled  outside  of  Drogheda. 

The  "Drogheda  Pioneer"  was  a  local  paper  of 
small  circulation.  How  had  Joe  Fiske  happened  to 
spy  a  copy  of  it  at  the  precise  date  of  that  unfortunate 
affair?  Joe  was  always  spying  "  items  ;  "  he  was  espe 
cially  constituted  for  it.  It  was  one  of  the  gifts  that 


DRONES'  HONEY.  251 

• 

marked  him  off  for  editorship.  Here  a  little  and  there 
a  little,  not  usually  the  whole  of  a  thing,  not  the  rights 
of  a  thing  or  the  depths  of  a  thing,  but  some  salient 
point  of  it  he  was  apt  to  seize  upon  and  "  work  up." 
He  had  seen  about  half  a  dozen  copies  of  the  "Pio 
neer," —  the  paper  had  died  out  long  ago, — and  one 
of  these  copies,  the  fatal  one,  he  had  sent  forthwith  to 
Narransauc.  And  why  not?  Joe  had  not  "the  art 
of  letting  people  alone."  Ben  Kirke  was  his  rival; 
aud,  if  his  rival  had  committed  iniquity,  it  should  be 
proclaimed  from  the  house-tops.  If  Evelyn  Searle 
cared  for  the  man,  she  should  be  rescued.  Not  that 
he  had  any  positive  knowledge  that  she  did :  only  a 
dark  and  haunting  suspicion  of  it,  which  caused  him  to 
mail  the  paper  in  furious  haste.  He  had  Ben  Kirke 
under  his  heel  for  once ;  and,  in  spite  of  old  friend 
ship,  it  was  a  satisfaction  to  crush  him,  knowing  of 
course  that  he  deserved  to  be  crushed. 

Joe  had  intended  to  return  to  Narransauc  some  time, 
and  let  Miss  Searle  know  of  his  chivalrous  defence  of 
her.  What  a  triumph  it  would  be  !  How  sweetly  she 
would  welcome  him  as  her  protector,  her  tutelary 
saint,  her  guardian  angel !  But  somehow  he  had  never 
pressed  his  advantage,  he  hardly  knew  why.  He  was 
not  a  sensitive  person ;  but  he  could  not  forget  his 
own  foolish  behavior  that  dreadful  summer,  and  the 
difference  it  had  made  in  her  manner  toward  him.  So 
it  happened  that  as  yet  he  had  not  found  the  courage 
to  go  back  to  Narransauc,  or  even  to  address  Miss 
Searle  by  letter. 

Moreover,  though  he  still  considered  his  love  for  her 
the  grand  passion  of  his  life,  it  must  be  admitted  that 


252  DRONES'  HONEY. 

« 

he  had  since  had  half  a  dozen  similar  affairs,  more  or 
less  thrilling,  and  had  hardly  thought  of  Miss  Searle 
for  months  until  to-day.  But  this  breath  from  the  past 
had  blown  aside  the  ashes  and  stirred  to  life  a  few 
buried  coals  of  the  old  feeling ;  and  now  he  was 
prepared  to  make  oath  that  he  had  loved  her  without 
ceasing,  and  her  only,  and  should  continue  to  love  her 
while  the  lamp  of  life  held  out  to  burn. 

Under  these  circumstances  it  was  pretty  hard  for 
him,  he  thought,  to  find  out  that  he  had  made  an 
egregious  mistake,  and  sent  her  a  piece  of  false  infor 
mation.  The  role  of  guardian  angel,  on  which  he  had 
plumed  himself,  turned  out  to  be  a  ridiculous  farce ; 
and  he  fairly  tingled  to  his  fingers'  ends  at  the  thought 
of  it. 

The  two  young  men  left  the  saloon,  and  walked 
together  toward  Broadway. 

"  Fine  weather  we're  having  now,"  chirped  Mr. 
Fiske  gayly.  "Going  into  the  country  this  summer, 
Ben?" 

"  No  ;  I  must  rush  back  to  Drogheda." 

"  Ever  hear  any  thing  these  days  from  Narran- 
sauc?  "  pursued  Joe  cautiously. 

"No;  do  you?" 

The  tone  was  quiet,  and  one  might  fancy  rather 
constrained. 

"  Not  I,"  said  Joe,  affecting  a  jocose  manner. 
"  Why,  you  wouldn't  expect  me  to  hear,  after  the 
impression  I  made  up  there  three  years  ago  !  Whew, 
wasn't  I  a  young  scatterbrains !  But  those  were  fine 
girls  on  Violet  Hill ;  I've  never  seen  their  equals, 
Ben." 


DRONES'  HONEY.  253 

"  Fine  girls,"  echoed  Dr.  Kirke,  breaking  step  with 
his  companion,  and  walking  on  with  long  strides. 

Joe  hurried  after  him.  He  was  not  destitute  of  a 
conscience;  and,  though  devoted  to  his  own  interests,  he 
did  know  he  had  wronged  his  friend,  and  he  did  regret 
it.  Ben  had  suffered  ;  there  was  no  question  about  that. 
He  was  too  proud  to  make  a  sign  ;  but  the  square  set 
of  his  lips,  and  the  firm  clinching  of  his  hands,  showed 
that  Joe  had  just  touched  a  live  nerve,  and  that  further 
allusion  to  Violet  Hill  would  be  intolerable. 

"What  shall  I  do?"  thought  Joe,  positively  dis 
tressed. 

He  would  have  liked  to  make  reparation ;  but  how  ? 
Should  he  tell  the  whole  truth?  What,  and  implicate 
himself,  call  down  a  shower  of  maledictions  on  his  own 
head  ? 

Ben  would  never  have  informed  against  him  ;  he 
would  have  scorned  to  play  the  part  of  a  spy  and  a 
gossip.  Joe  felt  guilty,  and  wanted  to  be  forgiven  ; 
but  confess  he  could  not,  and  would  not.  It  was  more 
than  human  nature  could  endure. 

"  Let  bygones  be  bygones.  Besides,  an  explanation 
might  bring  Ben  and  Evelyn  together  again  ;  and  I 
would  rather  see  him  lying  dead  at  my  feet,"  thought 
the  tragic  swain,  who  was  now  suffering  the  pangs  of 
an  ill-used,  faithful,  breaking  heart. 

"Well,  Kirke,"  with  great  cordiality,  "I  was  in 
luck  to-day  meeting  you.  It  has  set  me  up  for  a  week. 
Walk  along  to  my  rooms,  won't  }Tou?  " 

"  Thank  you,  no.  I  am  to  meet  a  man  at  Chambers 
Street  at  two,"  looking  at  his  watch. 

"  But  sha'u't  I  see  you  again,  Ben?  " 


254  DRONES'  HONEY. 

"  I'm  afraid  not.     I  leave  to-morrow  morning." 

"  Too  bad !  We  haven't  told  half.  But  any  way, 
Ben,  I'll  be  on  hand  at  the  station  to-morrow  morn 
ing." 

"All  right.  I'll  give  you  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
there.  But  in  case  we  shouldn't  meet,"  said  Dr. 
Kirke,  taking  both  Mr,  Fiske's  hands,  and  wringing 
them,  while  he  looked  down  on  him  with  a  face  that 
fairly  radiated  good- will,  "if  we  shouldn't  meet, 
remember,  Joe,  I  always  felt,  and  always  shall  feel, 
the  warmest  interest  in  you,  —  as  Art's  brother." 

The  last  three  words  were  spoken  involuntarily,  for 
truth's  sake.  His  interest  in  Joe  was  a  sort  of  post 
humous  friendship  for  Arthur,  and  he  had  never  pre 
tended  otherwise.  He  found  him  a  very  disappointing 
3'oung  fellow,  in  himself  considered,  but  never  forgot 
that  he  had  survived  one  of  the  best  of  brothers. 

"Thank  you,  Ben,"  said  Joe,  gyrating  lightly  on 
his  left  heel,  but  not  raising  his  eyes.  "  Good- by. 
See  you  to-morrow." 

Whether  that  last  warm  speech  of  Ben's  served  to 
thaw  the  crust  of  ice  around  his  worldly  heart,  or 
what  other  influences  were  at  work  upon  Joe,  I  cannot 
pretend  to  say  ;  I  will  only  state  that  the  next  morning, 
after  Mr.  Kirke  had  waited  the  promised  quarter-hour 
at  the  station,  and  was  about  walking  in  through  the 
opened  gate,  to  take  his  seat  in  a  car  for  Buffalo,  the 
tardy  youth  rushed  up  breathless,  thrust  a  paper  into 
his  hand,  with  a  "  Good-by,  old  boy,  take  that ;  and  be 
sure  you  send  me  an  answer,"  and  was  off  like  a  rocket. 

Mr.  Kirke  opened  the  paper  before  entering  the  car, 
and  read :  — 


DRONES'  HONEY.  255 

"Don't  disown  me,  Ben;  but  the  truth  is,  I  knew  something 
about  that  forged  note  before  you  told  the  story  yesterday.  I 
saw  the  '  Drogheda  Pioneer'  at  the  time  of  it,  and  sent  it  to 
Narransauc  from  a  stern  sense  of  duty.  You  may  imagine  how 
relieved  I  was  yesterday  to  find  you  innocent,  but  it  cuts  me  up 
tremendously  to  think  I  have  spread  the  story.  I  hereby  own, 
up.  Will  you  forgive  uie  ? 

JOE." 

"  The  meddlesome  monkey  !  " 

I  am  obliged  to  quote  these  as  the  first  words  that 
rose  to  Dr.  Kirke's  lips.  They  seemed  very  personal 
to  the  old  lady  who  was  just  then  brushing  his  elbow 
with  her  bird-cage,  and  she  turned  upon  him  an  indig 
nant,  reproachful  look ;  but  he  saw  neither  the  look 
nor  the  lady. 

"So  they  have  heard  that  at  Narransauc."  He 
dimly  remembered  that  there  had  been  a  "  Drogheda 
Pioneer,"  but  it  seemed  incredible  that  so  feeble  a  sheet 
could  have  travelled  so  far.  That  abominable  slander ! 
Why,  not  one  of  his  friends  outside  of  California  had 
ever  heard  of  it  till  he  told  it  himself !  It  was  such  an 
old  story  now,  that  he  had  almost  forgotten  it.  It  was 
the  merest  chance,  his  rehearsing  it  yesterday  to  Joe  ; 
and  Joe  —  The  fire  within  him  broke  out  into  sparks 
as  he  glared  at  the  note  in  his  hand.  In  all  the  pain 
he  had  suffered  from  Evelyn's  cold  withdrawal,  —  and 
a  man  could  hardlj-  have  felt  it  more,  —  he  had  never 
suspected  this  cause.  She  had  said  he  should  have 
his  answer  in  a  year ;  and  he  had  had  it  a  fortnight 
sooner  than  that,  —  the  brief,  irrevocable  sentence, 
"  Please  consider  that  all  is  over  between  us."  Noth 
ing  in  their  correspondence  had  led  up  to  it,  or  given 
him  cause  to  expect  the  cruel  blow.  On  the  contrary, 


256  DRONES'  HONEY. 

she  had  been  writing  him  all  along  in  a  very  frank, 
delightful  vein  ;  and  he  had  begun  to  count  the  days 
till  they  should  meet  as  more  than  friends.  When  he 
begged  an  explanation,  his  letter  came  back  unopened. 
It  was  very  strange,  and  very  hard  to  bear.  He  was 
conscious  of  no  offence  toward  her,  except  that  of 
loving  her  too  well ;  and,  if  she  must  dismiss  him,  he 
thought  he  had  reason  to  expect  her  to  do  it  in  a  very 
different  way  from  this. 

Was  there  something  objectionable  in  the  last  letter 
he  had  written?  If  so,  what  was  it?  Her  behavior 
was  a  deep  mystery ;  but  he  had  finally  settled  down 
to  the  surmise  that  a  certain  pla3'ful  speech  in  his  last 
letter  must  have  displeased  her.  It  was  an  absurd 
solution,  but  the  best  he  could  frame ;  and  though 
he  would  hardly  admit  that  she  was  capricious,  the 
woman  he  had  "  honored  this  side  of  idolatry,"  the 
resentment  he  could  not  but  feel  toward  her  had  helped 
him  not  a  little  in  rallying  from  his  disappointment. 

But  here  was  the  key  to  the  dark  puzzle  ;  here  was  a 
vindication  of  her  conduct.  Who  could  blame  Evelyn 
Searle,  or  any  other  self-respecting  woman,  for  dis 
carding  a  man  she  believed  to  be  a  villain  ?  He  won 
dered  at  her  sweet  charity  in  sending  him  even  that 
one  little  sentence  in  her  own  hand,  when  blank  silence 
would  have  been  more  than  he  deserved.  Dear  Evelyn  ! 
And  was  it  possible  that  she  had  suffered,  too? 

In  the  rush  of  these  entirely  new  thoughts,  he  forgot 
his  anger,  forgot  Joe,  forgot  every  thing  but  the  joy 
of  his  grand  discovery.  It  was  a  "  royal  hour,  the  top 
of  life."  He  understood  every  thing  now,  and  what  a 
dunce  he  had  been  not  to  understand  it  before  !  That 


DRONES'  HONEY.  257 

poor  little  newspaper !  Some  boy  must  have  sent  it  up 
for  a  kite  :  otherwise  it  never  could  have  gone  out  of  the 
State.  When  could  he  see  Evelyn?  Where  was  she? 
He  did  not  know  ;  but  he  would  know,  and  that  right 
soon. 

The  train  was  moving.  Very  well,  he  was  not  going 
to  California.  He  turned  aside  to  the  telegraph-office, 
and  despatched  to  his  mother  at  Drogheda :  — 

"  I  go  East;  will  write  to-morrow." 


258  DRONES'  HONEY. 


XXII. 

"Paradise  is  under  the  shadow  of  swords." 

MAHOMET. 

"  '  T  ET'S  hear  no  shouts  before  victory,'  the  kittle 
-LJ  is  yet  to  win,"  thought  Dr.  Kirke,  alighting 
at  Narransauc  with  head  proudly  erect,  but  a  humiliat 
ing  consciousness  that  he  was  coming  back  a  disgraced 
man.  He  did  not  know  where  to  seek  Miss  Searle,  or 
whether  she  would  consent  to  see  him.  But  one  thing 
was  sadly  certain,  —  he  could  expect  nothing  more  than 
coldest  courtesy  from  her  or  any  other  citizen,  till  he 
should  produce  his  credentials.  He  had  "  endured 
hardness  like  a  good  soldier,"  but  the  thought  of 
appearing  among  his  former  friends  as  a  suspected 
criminal  was  well  nigh  intolerable.  He  had  little  for 
bearance  toward  Joe  Fiske  when  he  thought  of  the 
mischievous  part  he  had  played  in  his  life.  But  then, 
it  had  never  been  expected  of  Joe  that  he  would  really 
confine  himself  to  his  own  affairs. 

Well,  here  they  all  were,  the  station  agent  and  other 
officials.  They  could  not  pretend  not  to  know  Mr. 
Kirke. 

"Why,  where  did  you  hail  from?  Going  to  stop 
long?  "  they  inquired.  But  not  one  said,  "  I'm  glad  to 
see  you  back,"  —  not  even  Tom  of  the  Druid,  adoring 
Tom ;  and  Dr.  Kirke  felt  the  omission  keenly,  as  he 


DRO.VES'  HONEY.  259 

contrasted  it  with  the  sincere  regrets  and  good  wishes 
on  his  departure  three  years  ago. 

He  went  to  the  Druid  ;  but  Mrs.  Simpson  feigned 
not  to  see  his  outstretched  hand,  as  he  followed  her 
into  the  back  parlor,  where  her  husband  was  asleep 
upon  the  sofa,  with  cheeks  distending  and  collapsing 
like  the  sails  of  a  ship  in  a  breeze. 

"  Mrs.  Simpson,  my  good  friend,"  said  the  young 
man,  stepping  forward  and  confronting  her,  "do  not 
turn  away  from  me.  The  charges  you  have  heard 
against  ;ne  are  false." 

The  worthy  woman  raised  her  dim  old  eyes,  and 
looked  him  through  and  through  with  a  kindty  but 
searching  gaze. 

"  Mr.  Kirke,  you  was  always  a  great  favorite  of 
mine.  I  want  to  believe  you,"  she  said,  her  lilac- 
colored  cap-strings  vibrating,  as  well  as  her  broken 
voice. 

He  had  thought  he  should  scorn  to  do  it,  but  it  was 
with  real  satisfaction  that  he  now  drew  from  his  breast 
pocket  a  document  duly  signed  and  stamped  with  red 
seals.  Though  lie  had  abandoned  the  law,  he  did  not 
despise  its  forms  ;  and  he  had  despatched  to  friends  in 
Droghecla  for  this  paper  attesting  his  innocence,  and 
had  waited  in  New  York  until  its  arrival. 

Mrs.  Simpson  received  it  with  trembling  hands,  put 
on  her  spectacles,  and  read  it  through  slowly,  her  face 
softening  and  lighting  all  the  while  ;  though  she  waited 
to  spell  out  eveiy  name,  and  to  turn  the  paper  over  and 
look  on  the  blank  side,  before  the  case  seemed  to  her 
finally  settled.  Then  with  the  joyful  exclamation, 
u  Bless  the  Lord !  "  loud  enough  to  waken  Mr.  Simp- 


260  DRONES'  HONEY. 

son,  she  gave  both  her  honest  hands  to  the  young 
man  ;  and  when  he  stooped  over  her,  which  of  the  two 
was  guilty  of  the  tear  which  wet  her  cheek  it  would  be 
impossible  to  say  :  for  after  it  she  certainly  wiped  her 
spectacles  ;  and  he  just  as  certainly,  though  rather  more 
slyly,  wiped  his  eyes. 

It  was  some  seconds  before  Mr.  Simpson  could  be 
made  to  take  in  the  situation  ;  but,  when  he  did,  there 
followed  a  scene  which  reminded  Ben  of  the  father's  joy 
over  the  return  of  the  prodigal  sou, — a  scene  he  had 
not  anticipated  and  was  not  prepared  for.  He  objected 
seriously  to  "breaking  down  and  making  a  fool  of 
himself,"  but  the  sacred  jubilee  of  this  warm-hearted 
old  couple  did  touch  a  very  tender  chord.  And  when 
Tom  was  sent  for  and  came  in,  full  of  boisterous 
delight,  Dr.  Kirke  was  ashamed  that  he  could  not  meet 
him  with  dry  eyes  and  a  steady  voice. 

The  parade  of  dainties  on  the  tea-table  that  evening 
was  simply  bewildering,  and  the  supper  turned  out  an 
impromptu  festival ;  for  in  some  mysterious  way  the 
news  had  aroused  the  whole  village,  and  the  neighbors 
came  dropping  in  one  after  another,  to  offer  congratula 
tions,  and  drink  a  cup  of  kindness  with  the  hero  of 
the  hour. 

"Takes  the  shine  all  off  our  golden  wedding,"  said 
the  smiling  Mr.  Simpson,  polishing  his  pink  crown. 

"What  do  golden  weddings  amount  to,  or  you  either, 
Simpson  ?  You  never  did  any  thing  you  was  ashamed 
of,"  returned  Mr.  Crabtree  ;  adding  with  a  resounding 
laugh,  as  he  shook  Ben's  hand  for  the  seventeenth  time, 
"  "We  can't  rejoice  so  much  over  good  folks  as  we  do 
over  sinners,  and  there's  no  use  talking  about  it.." 


DRONES'  HONEY,  26 1 

Dr.  Kirke  had  already  made  inquiries  concerning 
"the  young  ladies,"  and  learned  to  his  regret  that 
Miss  Searle  was  at  Dillon's  Island  with  her  uncle,  and 
Miss  Wilder  had  not  been  well  enough  as  yet  to  join 
her. 

"Date  looks  rather  slender,"  Mrs.  Crabtree  had 
said;  and  her  husband  had  amended  it,  "Yes,  amaz 
ing  slim." 

Mrs.  Simpson  thought  "  Theodate  undertook  too 
much  trying  to  have  the  liter'y  club  meet  there  while 
Evelyn  was  gone.  Right  in  the  midst  of  it,  Wednes 
day,  she  went  off  in  a  dead  faint  or  worse,  and  didn't 
come  to  for  twenty  minutes." 

"I've  heard  lately,"  said  Mrs.  Putnam,  "that 
there's  heart  trouble  in  her  family,  and  most  of  her 
folks  have  gone  that  way." 

"  You'd  better  go  up  and  see  her,  Mr.  Kirke,"  ad 
vised  Mrs.  Simpson  later  on,  when  the  guests  had 
nearly  all  dispersed. 

"  Yes,  do.  It  will  kind  of  cheer  her  up,"  said 
Mr.  Crabtree ;  adding,  as  the  young  man  promptly  dis 
appeared,  "  There's  no  change  in  him,  except  for  the 
better.  He's  filled  out  some,  and  seems  more  kind  of 
dignified." 

Miss  Wilder  had  not  heard  of  Dr.  Kirke's  arrival. 
She  was  on  the  lounge  in  the  back  parlor  when  he 
walked  up  to  the  open  front  door  and  rang  the  bell. 
A  vacant  rocking-chair  on  the  piazza  was  rocking 
slowly  in  a  breeze,  as  if  it  held  a  spiritual  guest.  A 
handful  of  withered  golden-rod  lay  on  the  door-sill, 
left  there  by  the  very  "  Mamie  "  who,  as  a  baby,  had 
coveted  his  watch  on  his  first  journey  to  Narransauc. 


262  DRONES'  HONEY. 

It  was  the  same  quiet,  beautiful  place,  guarded  by  the 
same  everlasting  hills.  It  was  the  same  bright-eyed 
Rosa  who  came  to  the  door  with  a  cold  welcome. 

But  it  was  not  the  same  Miss  Wilder.  This  he  said 
to  himself  with  sorrowful  surprise  when  she  entered  the 
parlor,  after  receiving  his  card  and  the  document. 

Her  greeting  was  cordial,  even  penitential ;  but  how 
wasted  she  looked,  how  colorless !  Usually  so  self- 
poised,  she  was  unable  now,  from  sheer  physical  weak 
ness,  to  control  her  agitation.  She  said  over  and  over, 
with  her  hand  pressed  against  her  side,  "  80  it  was  all 
a  mistake.  Oh,  I  am  so  glad,  so  glad  !  "  But  she 
drew  her  breath  with  difficulty  ;  and  Rosa,  who  seemed 
to  have  been  waiting  in  the  hall  for  that  very  purpose, 
came  in  presently  with  a  glass  of  water  and  a  pair  of 
pillows,  and  urged  her  to  recline  upon  the  sofa. 

Dr.  Kirke  was  much  perturbed,  and  blamed  himself 
for  having  intruded  upon  her  too  abruptly.  He  might 
have  sent  a  note  in  advance  to  prepare  her  for  his  call 
ing  to-morrow,  if  he  had  really  been  aware  that  she 
was  so  seriously  indisposed.  He  waited  only  till  she 
was  calmer,  and,  after  a  few  remarks  on  indifferent  sub 
jects,  hastened  to  take  his  leave.  But  this  she  would 
not  permit. 

"  I  was  strangely  out  of  tune  a  few  days  ago,  and 
am  hardly  recovered  yet,"  said  she,  trying  to  rise,  but 
sinking  back  to  her  half-recumbent  position.  "And 
your  coming  was  a  surprise.  There,  I'm  better  now. 
Pray  stay  and  talk  to  me." 

"  May  I  monopolize  the  conversation,  Miss  Wilder?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  is  just  what  I  want !  Sit  down  again, 
Mr.  Kirke.  Tell  me  how  it  all  happened.  Ah,  but 


DRONES'  HONEY.  263 

yon  need  not  have  sent  me  this  paper !  A  word  from 
your  lips  would  have  sufficed." 

"Thank  you  for  that,"  said  he  gratefully.  And 
then  he  began  at  the  beginning,  and  told  the  simple 
story  in  a  few  words. 

"  Rather  humiliating,  Miss  Wilder,  that  I  should 
have  to  come  back  to  Narransauc  bringing  a  certificate 
of  good  moral  character." 

"  Like  a  coachman?  yes." 

"  I  never  knew  till  last  week  that  this  miserable 
slander  had  reached  you.  But,  when  I  heard  of  it,  I 
resolved  to  come  and  contradict  it.  My  friends  here, 
at  least  two  of  them,  are  too  precious  to  lose." 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad  you  came  !  We  shall  both  be  so 
glad."  Theodate  was  no  longer  pale  ;  and  Dr.  Kirke 
looked  disapprovingly,  and  with  some  anxiety,  at  the 
deep  flush  which  had  centred  in  each  cheek. 

"  It  was  ver}r  kind  of  you  to  come.  You  cannot 
think  how  hard  this  has  been  for  us,  Mr.  Kirke  —  no, 
Dr.  Kirke."  She  smiled  up  at  him  as  she  spoke,  and 
he  smiled  in  reply.  They  were  both  thinking  how  much 
had  happened  since  they  parted.  "  We  could  not  bear 
to  believe  it  of  you.  I  wish  we  had  trusted  to  our 
instincts,  which  told  us  better  than  to  believe  it.  In 
fact,  Dr.  Kirke,  I  did  go  so  far  as  to  write  to  the  post 
master  at  Drogheda,  hoping  he  would  tell  me  that  it 
was  a  mistake." 

"  Bless  you,  Miss  Wilder,  my  true  friend  !  " 

"But  he  only  confirmed  the  report;  and  then  what 
chance  was  left  for  doubt?  " 

"None  —  to  JTOU." 

"And  you  can't  blame  us?" 


264  DRONES'  HONEY. 

"For  what?  For  casting  me  off?  How  could  3*011 
have  done  otherwise?  Still,  Miss  Wilder,  if  I  hud 
only  had  a  hint,  some  little  word!"  He  sprang  im 
pulsively  to  his  feet,  stung  by  the  recollection  of  the 
needless  anguish  he  had  suffered. 

"It  was  cruel,"  said  Theodate.  "But  how  could 
Evelyn  —  how  could  either  of  us,  suspect  you  needed  a 
hint?  Criminals  generally  know  but  too  well  their 
own  guilt." 

"  True  ;  very  true."  He  reseated  himself.  "  I  keep 
forgetting  what  a  villain  I  am,"  said  he,  laughing 
somewhat  bitterly.  "  You  must  forgive  me.  It  takes 
some  time  to  adjust  myself  to  the  situation." 

"  Dr.  Kirke,  who  sent  that  newspaper  to  Mr.  Simp 
son  ?  I  know,  without  your  telling  me  :  it  was  Bryant 
Fiske." 

"  Did  she  know  this  by  one  of  her  shrewd  intui 
tions?  "  Ben  wondered  ;  but  he  did  not  reply. 

Theodate  sat  upright,  and  fanned  herself  with  energy. 
Words  seemed  feeble  at  the  moment. 

"  It  was  sent  in  good  faith,  Miss  Wilder." 

"  Yes,  from  pure  benevolence.  I  understand  it  all," 
she  cried. 

"I  met  Joe  last  week  in  New  York,"  went  on  Dr. 
Kirke,  "  and  that  was  the  way  it  came  out.  He  need 
not  have  confessed  to  sending  the  paper,  but  he  did 
confess  voluntarih*.  He  is  not  bad  at  heart." 

"  What  less  could  he  have  done,  if  he  was  human?  " 
exclaimed  Theodate,  her  eyes  flashing.  "I  hope  he 
fell  on  his  knees  and  begged  your  pardon  in  face  of 
the  whole  congregation." 

Dr.  Kirke  would  have  enjoyed  this  outburst  of  wrath, 


DRONES'  HONEY.  265 

if  he  had  not  feared  that  Miss  Wilder  was  becoming 
unduly  excited ;  for  she  was  evidently  much  weaker 
than  she  wished  to  acknowledge. 

He  began,  as  soon  as  possible,  to  talk  of  other  mat 
ters,  —  of  the  fine  climate  of  Drogheda,  its  luscious 
fruits,  its  dreary  lack  of  grass.  By  degrees  he  arrived 
again  at  Narransauc  and  Violet  Hill,  and  ventured  an 
inquiry  as  to  Miss  Searle.  She  was  still  at  the  islands, 
Miss  Wilder  said.  Her  uncle  had  come  home  three 
days  ago,  and  left  her  there. 

"  She  does  not  know  your  state  of  health,  perhaps?  " 

"  She  does  not  know  I  am  worse,  or  she  would  be 
here  on  the  wings  of  the  wind.  I  was  not  well  when 
she  left  home,  and  that  was  why  I  sent  her  away." 

Dr.  Kirke  looked  his  surprise. 

"  She  was  always  anxious,  always  watching  me.  I 
could  see  it  tired  her." 

"  But  she  ought  to  know  the  truth,  Miss  Wilder." 

"  What  is  the  truth?"  asked  Theodate  with  a  look 
he  could  not  quite  fathom.  kt  Do  you  thiuk  me  so  very 
ill?" 

He  evaded  a  direct  reply.  How  much  did  she  under 
stand  of  her  true  condition,  —  this  unselfish  woman, 
who  had  deliberately  chosen  to  suffer  alone? 

"  You  have  a  physician?  " 

"  Yes,  —  Dr.  Cargill  of  Latium  ;  not  Dr.  Stone,"  she 
replied  with  something  of  her  old  force  of  manner. 

Dr.  Kirke  smiled  faintly.  He  remembered  that  old 
prejudice,  and  he  remembered  also  that  he  had  thought 
Dr.  Cargill  a  man  of  more  pretension  and  less  brains 
than  Dr.  Stone. 

"  When  you  come  next  time,  Dr.  Kirke,  I'd  like  to 


266  DRONES'  HONEY. 

talk  with  you,  and  see  if  you  and  Dr.  Cargill  agree 
about  ni}-  case." 

"Very  well,"  he  said,  restraining  his  professional 
impulse  to  take  her  wrist,  and  question  its  still  small 
voice.  "  When  I  come  again,  we  will  have  a  long  talk  ; 
but  now  I  really  ought  to  go.  And  may  I  ask  you 
Miss  Searle's  exact  address?  "  he  said  with  some  em 
barrassment. 

"Just  the  Dillon  House.  So  you  are  going  down 
there?  That  is  right. " 

"  Do  you  think  she  would  refuse  to  see  me?  " 

"Oh,  no,  no  fear  of  that!"  said  Miss  Wilder 
promptly,  but  added  in  a  qualifying  tone,  "that  is,  if 
you  send  her  a  note  of  explanation.  I  did  not  need 
it,  but  she  may.  She  is  more  prudent  than  I,  more 
consistent." 

"  So  I  fear,"  thought  Dr.  Kirke.  "  And  what  mes 
sage  shall  I  bear  from  you  ?  ' ' 

"  None  ;  except  my  dearest  love." 

"But,  Miss  Wilder"  — 

"Please  don't  remonstrate  with  me,  Dr.  Kirke.  I 
am  sure  you  think  me  worse  than  I  am  ;  and  it  is  quite 
natural,  seeing  me  for  the  first  time  after  such  a  long 
interval.  For  I  know  I  have  changed.  But  I  am  not 
likely  to  die  to-day  or  to-morrow,"  looking  up  brightly. 
"  So  don't  ask  me  to  call  Evelyn  home." 

"  Still,  if  she  wishes  to  come?  " 

"Then  forbid  it,  from  me.  Tell  her  I  charge  her  to 
stay  through  August." 

Dr.  Kirke  had  risen  to  go,  but  lingered,  looking 
down  in  pity  and  wonder  at  the  resolute  figure  upon 
the  sofa.  "You  mystify  me,  Miss  Wilder.  We 


DRONES'  HONEY.  267 

generally  want  our  best  friends  about  us  when  we 
are  ill." 

"Not  if  it  is  going  to  terrify  them,"  she  returned 
with  a  faint,  yearning  smile.  "  For  several  days,  I 
have  been  simply  dreadful  to  behold.  But  I'm  gaining 
now,  and  I  take  such  care  of  myself !  Why,  I've 
felt  wonderfully  better  all  day ;  and  in  another  week 
I  may  be  quite  bright,  almost  myself,  you  know.  At 
any  rate,  she  must  wait  a  week.  It  is  for  her  own 
sake,  Dr.  Kirke." 

He  did  not  answer.  "  Good-by,  Miss  Wilder.  You 
will  let  me  come  again?  " 

"Oh,  do,  pray  do!  I  never  was  so  happy  in  my 
life.  And  to  think  of  what  this  will  be  to  Evelyn  !  " 
She  checked  herself,  afraid  lest  she  might  reveal  too 
much  of  what  she  knew,  or  fancied,  of  her  friend's 
feelings.  "Evelyn  is  always  so  glad  to  know  that 
people  are  better  than  they  are  represented,  the  dear 
girl !  There  is  joy  in  heaven,  you  know." 

After  he  was  gone,  she  reclined  in  perfect  quiet 
for  a  full  half-hour. 

"  Yes,  joy,  pure  joy.  This  is  more  than  I  prayed 
for,"  she  murmured,  folding  her  hands,  with  a  smile 
like  moonlight  on  still  waters.  "  All  is  well  with  her, 
and  she  will  not  need  me  any  more.  Father,  I  am 
read}T.  I  can  bear  to  leave  her  now.  Forgive  me, 
that,  while  I  trusted  thee  for  myself,  I  never  fully 
trusted  thee  for  her." 

Dr.  Kirke  passed  out  with  a  grave,  thoughtful  face. 

Rosa  was  still  lingering  in  the  hall.  He  gave  her  a 
meaning  look ;  and  she  slipped  out  at  the  back  door, 
and  met  him  half-way  down  the  hill,  out  of  sight  of 


268  DRONES'  HONEY. 

the  house.  She  went  eagerly,  for  her  old  faith  in  the 
man  had  been  quite  re-established  by  the  conversa 
tion  she  had  just  overheard  between  him  and  Miss 
Date. 

"  Tell  me  all  about  it,  Rosa.  How  long  has  she 
been  so  ill?  " 

"Oh,  sir,"  replied  Rosa,  in  a  frightened  tone,  "it 
has  been  going  on  for  weeks  and  weeks  !  I  knew  of 
lots  of  spells  she  had  up  in  her  room  ;  but  she  wouldn't 
let  me  tell  Miss  Evelyn,  for  Miss  Evelyn  never  would 
have  went  off,  if  she  had  known  it.  And  Miss  Evelyn 
went ;  and  Miss  Date  has  fell  away  steady  ever  since, 
and  grows  worse  right  straight  along.  Peter  and  me, 
we  feel  scared." 

"Well,  go  on." 

"And  she  wouldn't  hear  to  my  writing  to  Miss 
Evelyn,  and  wouldn't  write  herself.  And  Peter,  he 
goes  one  day  to  old  Dr.  Stone,  and  asks  him  to  call ; 
and  Miss  Date  didn't  like  it  much,  and  wouldn't  tell 
him  what  ailed  her.  He  thought  it  was  her  liver,  and 
some  of  those  things.  And  how  Miss  Date  laughed 
about  it  after  he  was  gone  !  Then  she  had  Dr.  Cargill ; 
and  he  laughed,  too,  and  said,  '  We  won't  hunt  for 
butterflies  while  there's  bears  in  the  woods.'  I  don't 
know  what  that  meant,  but  it  made  Miss  Date  look 
pretty  sober." 

"  AVhat  else  did  he  say?  " 

"  Well,  he  said  she  hadn't  any  lungs  and  livers  and 
things  :  'twas  her  heart.  And  Peter  says  the  heart  is 
the  main  art'ry,"  almost  in  a  whisper. 

"Ah!" 

"  Yes  ;  and  that's  why  she  has  to  sit  kind  of  propped 


DRONES'  HONEY.  269 

\ 

up,  so  as  to  keep  the  main,  art'ry  straight,  or  it  will 
stop  the  breath.     That's  what  Peter  says." 

These  lessons  in  physiology  were  heard  with  flatter 
ing  attention. 

"  Does  she  think  Dr.  Cargill  helps  her?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  But  we  think  the  new  drops  is 
making  her  worse  :  that's  what  we  think,  Peter  and  me  ; 
and  we  wish  Miss  Evelyn  was  here.  But  Miss  Date 
won't  let  her  come ;  though  it's  Miss  Evelyn's  own 
house,  and  she  begs  and  begs  to  come.  Oh,  how  I 
wish  she  could !  Every  thing's  always  so  beautiful 
when  Miss  Evelyn  is  here,  and  she  can  manage  Miss 
Date  splendid,"  said  Rosa,  in  a  confidential  tone. 

"  Rosa,  I'm  going  to  Latium  to  take  the  night  train 
for  Portland.  I  think,  as  you  do,  that  Miss  Evelyn 
ought  to  be  here  ;  and,  if  possible,  I  will  bring  her  home 
to-morrow." 

"•O  Mr.  Kirke,  to-morrow?  Will  Miss  Date  be 
willing?" 

"  I  have  not  asked  her,  but  you  may  tell  her  what  I 
say.  And  tell  her  Miss  Evelyn  will  certainly  think  it 
very  cruel,  if  she  is  kept  away  any  longer." 

"  Oh,  I  will,  Mr.  Kirke ;  and,  if  you  fetch  her  home, 
I'll  bless  you  to  the  longest  day  I  live !  " 


268  DRONES'  HONEY. 

the  house.  She  went  eagerly,  for  her  old  faith  in  the 
man  had  been  quite  re-established  by  the  conversa 
tion  she  had  just  overheard  between  him  and  Miss 
Date. 

"Tell  me  all  about  it,  Rosa.  How  long  has  she 
been  so  ill?  " 

"Oh,  sir,"  replied  Rosa,  in  a  frightened  tone,  "  it 
has  been  going  on  for  weeks  and  weeks !  I  knew  of 
lots  of  spells  she  had  up  in  her  room  ;  but  she  wouldn't 
let  me  tell  Miss  Evelyn,  for  Miss  Evelyn  never  would 
have  went  off,  if  she  had  known  it.  And  Miss  Evelyn 
went ;  and  Miss  Date  has  fell  away  steady  ever  since, 
and  grows  worse  right  straight  along.  Peter  and  me, 
we  feel  scared." 

"Well,  go  on." 

"And  she  wouldn't  hear  to  my  writing  to  Miss 
Evelyn,  and  wouldn't  write  herself.  And  Peter,  he 
goes  one  da}-  to  old  Dr.  Stone,  and  asks  him  to  call ; 
and  Miss  Date  didn't  like  it  much,  and  wouldn't  tell 
him  what  ailed  her.  He  thought  it  was  her  liver,  and 
some  of  those  things.  And  how  Miss  Date  laughed 
about  it  after  he  was  gone  !  Then  she  had  Dr.  Cargill ; 
and  he  laughed,  too,  and  said,  '  We  won't  hunt  for 
butterflies  while  there's  bears  in  the  woods.'  I  don't 
know  what  that  meant,  but  it  made  Miss  Date  look 
pretty  sober." 

"  What  else  did  he  say?  " 

"  Well,  he  said  she  hadn't  any  lungs  and  livers  and 
things  :  'twas  her  heart.  And  Peter  says  the  heart  is 
the  main  art'ry,"  almost  in  a  whisper. 

"Ah!" 

"  Yes  ;  and  that's  why  she  has  to  sit  kind  of  propped 


DRONES'  HONEY.  269 

\ 

up,  so  as  to  keep  the  main,  art'ry  straight,  or  it  will 

stop  the  breath.     That's  what  Peter  says." 

These  lessons  in  physiology  were  heard  with  flatter 
ing  attention. 

"  Does  she  think  Dr.  Cargill  helps  her?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  But  we  think  the  new  drops  is 
making  her  worse  :  that's  what  we  think,  Peter  and  me  ; 
and  we  wish  Miss  Evelyn  was  here.  But  Miss  Date 
won't  let  her  come ;  though  it's  Miss  Evelyn's  own 
house,  and  she  begs  and  begs  to  come.  Oh,  how  I 
wish  she  could !  Every  thing's  always  so  beautiful 
when  Miss  Evelyn  is  here,  and  she  can  manage  Miss 
Date  splendid,"  said  Rosa,  in  a  confidential  tone. 

"  Rosa,  I'm  going  to  Latium  to  take  the  night  train 
for  Portland.  I  think,  as  you  do,  that  Miss  Evelyn 
ought  to  be  here  ;  and,  if  possible,  I  will  bring  her  home 
to-morrow." 

tkO  Mr.  Kirke,  to-morrow?  Will  Miss  Date  be 
willing?" 

"  I  have  not  asked  her,  but  you  may  tell  her  what  I 
say.  And  tell  her  Miss  Evelyn  will  certainly  think  it 
very  cruel,  if  she  is  kept  away  any  longer." 

"  Oh,  I  will,  Mr.  Kirke  ;  and,  if  you  fetch  her  home, 
I'll  bless  you  to  the  longest  day  I  live !  " 


2/0  DRONES'  HONEY. 


XXIII. 

"  God  standing  in  the  shadows,  tukiny  care  of  his  own." 

MISS  SEARLE  was  standing  on  the  island  wharf 
with  several  other  people  from  the  hotel,  watch 
ing  the  stately  approach  of  the  nine  o'clock  boat,  which 
was  faintly  outlined  through  a  veil  of  mist.  Evelyn 
wore  her  yachting-suit  of  silver  gray,  with  ribbons  and 
garniture  of  soft,  bright  blue ;  and  as  the  damp  wind 
lifted  her  tresses  of  crisped  gold,  and  freshened  the 
faint  wild-rose  tint  in  her  cheek,  she  looked  —  this  was 
admitted  privately  by  young  Miss  Parmenter  to  young 
Miss  Chase — •  "  not  a  day  older  than  we  do,  Carrie; 
though  she  must  be  quite  an  old  maid,  don't  you 
know?" 

Little  dreamed  these  girls  of  seventeen,  secure  in 
their  youthful  charms,  that  Miss  Searle  was  of  a  far 
higher  type  of  beauty  than  either  of  themselves,  and  to 
thinking  people  vastly  more  attractive.  If  she  had 
ever  suffered,  the  healing  years  had  touched  the  wound. 
If  she  had  been  in  danger  of  "  growing  dim,"  the  sea 
air,  new  companionship,  and  fresh  thoughts  had  fully 
"  restored  "  her. 

But  for  all  her  bright  looks  and  unwonted  gayety, 
which  with  a  little  effort  would  have  made  her  prime 
favorite  in  the  little  circle  here,  Evelyn  had  not  been  at 


DRONES'  HONEY.  271 

all  content  at  the  island,  and  would  have  gone  home 
gladly  with  her  uncle.  She  not  only  longed  constantly 
for  Theodate,  but  felt  a  growing  anxiety  about  her, 
and  had  firmly  resolved  never  under  any  circumstances 
to  leave  her  again. 

It  might  be  absurd,  but  she  hardly  felt  at  liberty  to 
return  to  her  own  house  when  Theodate  wrote  so  in 
sistently,  "  I  shall  be  wretched  if  you  come."  Why 
should  Theodate  choose  to  stay  alone  when  she  was 
ill?  "'Her  loneliness  foldeth  a  wonderful  loving,'" 
thought  Evelyn  reverently.  "  I  know  she  chooses 
it  for  my  sake ;  yet  I  sometimes  fancy  there  is  a 
deeper  reason  still,  —  that  she  is  afraid  to  lean  too 
much  on  human  love.  '  By  so  much  the  more  does  a 
man  draw  nigh  to  God,  as  he  goes  away  from  all 
earthly  solace,'  I  heard  her  say  once,  with  a  rapt  look 
that  touched  me  to  the  heart ;  and  I  grew  numb  with  a 
sudden  fear.  What  should  I  do  without  her,  —  I,  poor 
I?  That  dreadful  pallor  she  has  sometimes  is  from 
mere  fatigue,  I  dare  say ;  but  when  I  am  away  from 
her  I  am  haunted  b}*  it.  —  Dear  me,  what  is  Mr. 
Gourlay  talking  about?  " 

Mr.  Gourlay,  a  Canadian  gentleman  who  was  bota 
nizing  at  the  island,  was  standing  beside  her,  looking 
out  upon  the  water.  "  You  expect  a  friend,  Miss 
Searle?" 

"Oh,  no!"  a  cloud  floating  over  the  summer  sky 
of  her  face,  as  she  asked  herself,  Who  was  there  now 
to  come  ?  for  the  circle  of  her  closest  friends  had  nar 
rowed  very  much  within  the  past  few  years ;  and  then 
involuntarily  the  thought  arose,  that  once  she  might 
have  been  looking  out  for  Mr.  Kirke,  whereas  now  she 


2/2  DRONES'  HONEY. 

would  never  look  for  him  again,  or  ever  care  to  see  his 
face. 

"  No  ;  I  am  only  expecting  letters,"  she  said.  "  One 
always  expects  letters  here,  you  know." 

The  rnist  was  creeping  in  from  the  sea,  like  unhappy, 
haunting  thoughts  ;  but  the  boat  had  swung  clear  of  it 
by  this  time,  and  was  well  defined,  and  drawing  very 
near  the  wharf. 

Mr.  Gourlay  remembered  that  Miss  Searle  had  a 
sick  friend  from  whom  she  was  anxious  to  hear,  and 
this  might  account  for  her  abstracted  air,  as  the  boat 
stopped  and  the  passengers  began  to  land.  She  was 
looking,  probably,  for  that  magical  leathern  purse  of 
P"ortunatus,  the  mail-bag,  which  some  one  was  flinging 
into  a  wheelbarrow  over  a  pile  of  newly  arrived  gro 
ceries.  But  her  interest  in  the  mail-bag  could  hardly 
have  caused  her  to  turn  her  head  away  from  it ;  nor 
was  it  to  be  expected  that  a  young  lady  of  her  good 
manners  should  whirl  completely  around  while  a  gen 
tleman  was  speaking  to  her,  ignoring  his  remarks  alto 
gether. 

Mr.  Gourlay  would  have  understood  it  better  if  he 
had  observed  the  tall  young  man  who  was  coming 
toward  them,  never  once  moving  his  eyes  from  the 
figure  in  the  silver-gray  yachting-suit.  Dr.  Kirke  had 
recognized  Evelyn  from  a  long  distance ;  and,  as  he 
stepped  out  upon  the  lauding,  he  saw  at  once  that  she 
knew  him,  and  wished  to  avoid  a  meeting.  He  could 
not  blame  her,  and  under  any  other  circumstances 
would  have  passed  on  to  the  hotel  and  left  her  in 
peace.  But  now  this  would  not  do.  She  had  it  in  her 
power  to  escape  from  him  by  going  off  in  a  yacht,  or 


DRONES'  HONEY.  2/3 

fleeing  to  her  room,  or  doing  any  one  of  fifty  other 
things ;  and  there  was  no  time  to  lose.  So,  at  the  risk 
of  downright  impertinence,  he  walked  boldly  up  to 
her,  and  said  in  courteous  tones,  but  loud  enough  to  be 
heard  by  all,  "Ah,  Miss  Searle,  is  it  you?  I  have 
an  important  message  for  you.  Will  you  oblige  me 
by  walking  with  me  to  the  hotel?  " 

He  knew  her  well  enough  to  be  sure  she  would  not 
make  a  scene.  She  only  hesitated  for  an  impercepti 
ble  second,  and  then  said,  "Thank  you,  Mr.  Kirke. 
I  hope  the  message  is  not  from  Miss  Wilder?"  and 
went  on  with  him  up  the  rising  ground,  quite  as  if  he 
were  an  old  acquaintance  from  whom  she  had  parted 
only  yesterday. 

A  bringer  of  bad  news,  Mr.  Gourlay  feared.  But 
the  news,  whatever  it  was,  could  wait ;  it  must  wait, 
at  least,  till  this  terrible  barrier  between  them  was  laid 
low. 

"  Miss  Wilder  sent  no  message  but  her  love.  She 
declares  she  is  better,"  said  he,  willing  to  temporize  a 
little. 

"  Oh,  I  am  very,  very  glad !  " 

"Miss  Searle,"  he  added,  dropping  his  voice  to  a 
low  kej*,  tremulous  with  feeling,  "  for  Heaven's  sake, 
listen  to  me !  As  the  Lord  lives,  I  am  an  innocent 
man." 

Till  then  she  had  not  looked  at  him  ;  but  she  turned 
quickly  now,  and  cried,  "O  Mr.  Kirke ! "  with  a 
little,  half-strangled  sob. 

"  It  was  only  a  case  of  mistaken  identit}',"  he  con 
tinued  eagerly.  "  The  crime  was  committed  by  a  man 
who  looked  like  me ;  but  it  all  happened  so  long  ago 


2/4  DRONES'  HONEY. 

that  I  had  nearly  forgotten  it,  when  I  met  some  one 
last  week  in  New  York.  —  I  have  papers  in  proof  of 
my  innocence,  Miss  Searle,  which  I  will  show  you 
when  we  reach  the  hotel." 

"  Never  mind  that,"  said  she  brokenly. 

His  word  was  enough  for  her, — his  word  and  that 
manly,  earnest  face.  What  cared  she  for  proofs? 
Theodate  had  quite  overrated  her  "  prudence  and  con 
sistency,"  it  seemed. 

She  would  have  given  him  her  hand,  only  in  their 
agitation  they  had  walked  on  in  advance  of  the  others, 
and  she  was  shy  of  observation.  But  she  let  him  read 
her  eyes,  which  always  showed  the  least  pleasure  so 
quickly,  and  were  radiant  now  with  the  iutensest  joy 
she  had  ever  known. 

"Can  you  ever  forgive  me?"  She  tried  to  speak 
steadily,  but  her  lips  quivered  and  her  voice  died 
away. 

It  was  a  moment  of  pure  delight  to  Dr.  Kirke.  He 
had  staked  all  upon  this  meeting,  yet  had  counted  on 
some  delay  from  cautious  doubts.  Miss  Searle  was 
unworldly,  he  knew,  but  not  impulsive  ;  he  had  scarcely 
hoped  for  such  a  ready  assent  to  his  bare  word  of 
honor. 

"It  is  no  question  of  forgiveness,"  said  he  grate 
fully. 

She  led  him  to  the  grape  arbor,  fortunately  vacant, 
where  she  knew  they  would  be  secure  from  intrusion. 
There  was  nothing  for  her  now  in  heaven  or  earth 
but  the  knowledge  that  the  man  she  had  wronged  was 
worthy  her  esteem  ;  of  her  love  she  did  not  even  think. 
Whatever  of  a  personal  nature  had  passed  between 


DRONES'  HONEY.  275 

them  was  over  long  ago.  It  was  the  vast  injustice 
she  had  done  him,  the  reparation  she  would  make,  that 
filled  her  thoughts.  It  was  happiness  enough  to  know 
she  need  no  longer  shut  him  out  of  her  heart,  as  a 
warden  turns  a  key  relentlessly  upon  a  felon. 

It  was  a  rustic  arbor,  and  the  grapes  upon  it  would 
be  small  and  sour,  if  they  ever  ripened  ;  but  on  enter 
ing  Dr.  Kirke  removed  his  hat  as  if  it  were  the  Holy 
Gate  of  Moscow.  How  long  it  seemed  since  he  had 
been  granted  the  high  favor  of  a  tete-ti-t£te  with  Eve 
lyn  !  And  never  had  he  seen  her  like  this  before.  He 
held  out  both  hands  to  her  appealingly. 

"  You  do  believe  me?  You  take  me  back,  at  least 
to  the  old  favor?" 

*'  Yes,  oh,  yes  !     How  cruel  I  have  been  !  " 

"  To  the  old  favor,  Evelyn  ;  but  may  it  not  be  some 
thing  more?  "  he  asked  huskily. 

He  was  deathly  pale,  but  his  firm  lips  and  resolute 
eyes  indicated  a  reserve  of  mental  strength.  "  You 
know  by  this  time,  or  you  surely  ought  to  know,  what 
to  say  to  me.  I  will  receive  your  answer  now,  and 
abide  by  it  forever." 

"O  Mr.  Kirke,  I  did  not  suppose  you  would  care, 
after  all  this." 

Not  that  she  meant  to  trifle  with  him ;  but  he  had 
taken  her  at  unawares,  and  it  was  her  nature  to  be 
timid  and  reserved.  She  had  not  thought  of  him 
in  this  light  for  a  long  while,  and  she  had  not  her 
answer  ready. 

"  It  is  not  that  you  doubt  my  innocence?  " 

"No;  oh,  no!  oh,  no!  "  taking  one  of  his  hands 
warmly  in  both  her  own. 


2/6  DRONES'  HONEY. 

The  cold  dignity  which  had  suddenly  appeared  in  his 
manner  melted  at  this.  He  bent  toward  her  with  an 
indescribably  tender  motion.  "  Evelyn,  is  there  any 
thing  I  can  say  to  you  now,  that  I  have  not  already  said 
by  speech  or  written  word,  to  prove  my  love?  " 

"No;  oh,  no!  It  is  not  that,"  said  she  hesitat 
ingly- 

"Then  may  I  ask  what  stands  between  us?  "  He 
spoke  with  bated  breath.  For  all  his  apparent  calm 
ness,  she  knew  the  hour  had  struck  when  they  must  be 
all  or  nothing  to  each  other.  If  she  had  ever  tried 
him  by  her  indecision, — and  she  saw  now  that  this 
might  be  so,  —  it  was  clear  that  he  would  brook  no 
more  trifling. 

The  party  from  the  wharf  were  strolling  past  the 
arbor,  and  their  gay  voices  floated  over  from  the  road 
on  the  left.  Evelyn  and  Dr.  Kirke  were  still  standing ; 
but  while  he  looked  intently  at  her,  she  looked  in  per 
plexity  at  the  landscape. 

"Wait  a  little,  Mr.  Kirke.  I  cannot  be  hurried. 
It  is  once  for  all ;  and  remember  I  have  to  think  of 
Theodate." 

"  Why  of  her?  "  he  asked  earnestly.  "  That  large- 
souled,  gracious,  exalted  woman  is  sufficient  to  her 
self."  Could  this  be  all,  he  wondered,  — the  sole  cause 
of  her  hesitation? 

"  Nevertheless,  she  would  not  leave  Maine  ;  and  how 
could  I  leave  her  ?"  said  Evelyn,  looking  up  half 
afraid.  What  beautiful  eyes  he  had,  and  how  they 
drew  her !  Was  it  her  dut}7  to  resist  the  attraction  ? 

He  advanced  a  step  nearer,  and  she  would  have  re 
treated,  in  loyalty  to  Theodate  ;  but  something  held  her, 


DRONES'  HONEY.  277 

like  a  scrap  of  iron  held  by  a  magnet.  "Was  it  because 
she  had  wronged  him,  and  her  conscience  would  not  let 
her  off  till  she  had  paid  the  uttermost  farthing?  Or 
was  there  no  choice  left  her?  Was  the  will  of  the 
magnet  her  law  ? 

"  O  Mr.  Kirke,"  said  she,  in  a  soft,  entreating  voice, 
though  her  pulses  were  throbbing  to  their  utmost, 
"  don't  you  see  I  am  ground  between  the  upper  and 
nether  millstones  ?  ' ' 

"  What  millstones?  "  he  cried  exultantly,  —  "  myself 
and  Theodate  ?  Tell  me,  is  that  all  ?  " 

"  I  believe  so." 

"Evelyn,  she  would  not  ask  you  to  think  of  her. 
She  is  like  one  of  God's  angels." 

His  manner,  rather  than  his  words,  startled 
Evelyn. 

"  Oh,  what  do  you  mean?  You  have  told  me  noth 
ing  yet.  You  do  not  think  her  very  ill?  " 

"  I  cannot  say  till  I  have  seen  her  again.  She  bade 
me  tell  you  she  is  better.  Still,  Dr.  Cargill  "  — 

"  I  never  knew  she  had  called  Dr.  Cargill.  O  my 
Theodate  !  ' '  said  Evelyn  with  a  pathetic  little  cry  ; 
and,  as  he  extended  his  arms,  she  sank  into  them, 
scarcely  knowing  what  she  did,  and  let  them  fold  her 
round,  as  a  grieved  child  accepts  the  haven  of  a 
mother's  breast.  She  was  thinking  at  the  moment  only 
of  Theodate,  who  must  be  worse,  and  of  the  pain  it 
was  to  be  shut  away  from  her  by  Theodate's  own  de 
cree.  It  did  not  occur  to  her  that  by  tins  involuntary 
act  she  was  mutely  answering  Dr.  Kirke's  question  and 
appeal.  In  another  second  she  remembered,  but  it  was 
then  too  late.  He  said  nothing  to  remind  her  that  it 


2/8  DRONES'  HONEY. 

was  the  supreme  moment  of  his  life.  He  knew  she 
had  come  to  him  "  once  for  all,"  but  he  spoke  only 
of  Theodate. 

"  She  may  not  be  so  ill  as  she  seems.  She  does  not 
want  you  to  go  to  her,  Evelyn  ;  still,  I  think  she  needs 
you." 

"  I  am  going  now,  at  once,  in  the  next  boat.  I  can 
not  help  it  if  she  objects.  O  Mr.  Kirke,"  with  a  long- 
drawn,  tremulous  sob,  "  you  know  better  than  anyone 
else  how  hard  it  has  been  to  stay  here  and  wait  for 
letters,  and  feel  that  she  might  be  worse  and  would  not 
let  me  know." 

"She  expects  you  back  with  me,"  said  he.  Still, 
he  gently  detained  her. 

"  Expects  me?  Is  it  possible?  You  prevailed  upon 
her,  then  ?  How  good  of  you  !  ' ' 

And  with  an  exquisite  little  caressing  touch  of  her 
head  against  his  shoulder,  she  broke  from  him  and  fled 
away  toward  the  house,  to  make  read}7  for  the  journey, 
leaving  him  gazing  after  her  as  her  graceful,  retreating 
figure  grew  shadowy  in  the  shrouding  mist. 

But  there  was  no  obscurity  for  him  now,  or  haunting 
doubts :  his  life  spread  out  before  him  like  the  varied 
landscape  of  the  island,  —  a  plan  of  God,  most  beautiful 
and  clear.  The  sea  was  creeping  in  wherever  it  could 
find  an  inlet ;  the  road  winding  to  the  unknown  was 
fringed  with  grass,  which,  ubiquitous,  like  the  ocean, 
sought  a  foothold  even  in  the  highway  itself.  Afar  off 
he  knew  the  air  was  sweet  with  wild  roses,  juniper, 
and  fern.  Near  him  he  saw  broad  meadows  of  mown 
grass,  the  emblem  of  humility,  and  remembered  that  it 
is  sometimes  a  blessing  to  be  cast  down  awhile  when 


DRONES'  HONEY.  279 

one's  estate  has  been  too  high.  In  this  mood  he  could 
even  forgive  Joe  Fiske.  Joe  had  brought  him  low 
enough ;  but,  before  and  beyond  all  that,  had  he  not 
been  the  unconscious  means  of  leading  him  to  Evelyn? 
"  Perhaps  I  wronged  the  boy,  Art's  brother;  but,  if  I 
did,  he  has  had  his  revenge,  and  we  will  call  it  even 
and  let  it  pass." 

So  he  and  Evelyn  went  together  toward  Narransauc, 
and  "love  was  answered  and  life  was  clear."  And 
he  tried  to  banish  his  forebodings  regarding  Ttieodate. 
After  all,  what  did  he  really  know  of  the  case,  and 
why  should  he  excite  Evelyn  to  an  alarm  which  might 
be  needless? 

"  I  am  so  glad  and  thankful  to  be  going  home. 
Why,  my  heart  is  lightened  already  of  half  its  fears," 
she  said  with  a  brilliant  look.  "I'm  cowardly  and 
unreasonable  when  I'm  away  from  her ;  but  when  I 
once  get  back  where  I  can  see  her  every  minute  — 
Oh,  how  kind  it  was  of  you,  Dr.  Kirke !  " 

For  him  it  was  an  enchanted  journey,  and  Evelyn 
could  not  have  been  more  charming  if  she  had  spent 
the  past  years  in  storing  up  lovely  words  and  looks 
against  his  return.  There  was  atonement  in  this, 
but  there  was  something  more.  She  had  crossed, 
"  once  for  all,"  the  debatable  land  between  friendship 
and  love ;  and  he  learned  to  his  delight  how  differ 
ent  is  a  woman  fully  won  from  a  woman  only  half- 
persuaded. 

Up  to  the  last  moment  she  had  hesitated  for  Theo- 
date's  sake ;  but  now,  having  made  a  final  surrender 
of  her  heart  to  the  man  Theodate  approved,  it  was 
easy  to  assure  herself  that  this  was  110  wrong  to  her 


280  DRONES'  HONEY. 

friend,  and  that  now,  if  Theodate  would  only  improve, 
all  would  go  well. 

"  Listen,"  whispered  Theodate.  "  Is  that  the 
train?" 

The  faint  rumble  in  the  distance  might  have  been 
summer  thunder,  hut  no  one  thought  of  doubting  the 
evidence  of  Theodate's  quickened  senses.  She  was 
very  ill  indeed.  There  had  been  a  great  change  for 
the  worse. 

Dr.  Cargill  was  standing  by  her  bedside  with  his 
finger  upon  her  pulse,  as  he  had  stood  by  Evelyn  on 
that  September  night  now  nearly  three  years  since. 
He  made  the  slightest  perceptible  shake  of  the  head 
when  Mr.  Searle  looked  at  him  inquiringly. 

*'  I  hope  I  shall  be  here  —  when  she  comes.  Half 
an  hour,"  said  Theodate,  in  a  fainter  whisper,  as  Mr. 
Searle  bent  reverently  over  her  pillow. 

A  white  calm  was  on  her  face,  without  a  shade  of 
fear  or  doubt.  "But  now  —  she  will  not  —  need  me 
—  any  more,"  she  said  slowly;  and  her  lips  seemed 
scarcely  to  move. 

"  Theodate,  dear  Theodate,  how  can  we  give  you 
up?  "  said  Mr.  Searle,  his  eyes  suffused  with  tears. 

u  J  am  not  needed — any  more,"  repeated  the  pale 
lips  with  a  restful  smile.  "  God  let  me  stay  till  "  — 
She  left  the  sentence,  and  added,  "  I  am  glad  he  let 
me  stay  so  long." 

It  was  five  o'clock.  Outside,  from  the  open  window, 
could  be  seen  the  green  meadows  and  the  soft  sky. 
From  far  away  could  be  heard  the  "  song-talk  "  of  the 
birds. 


DRONES'  HONEY.  281 

"  Life  is  wonderfully  interesting,"  thought  Theo- 
date,  closing  her  eyes,  —  was  it  for  the  last  time? 
"  Only  eight  notes  in  the  gamut,  yet  such  a  variety  of 
tunes." 

She  seemed  sinking,  but  revived  a  little  after  a 
draught  the  doctor  gave  her.  Her  left  hand  lay  in 
Mr.  Searle's  right.  She  raised  her  ej'es  and  looked  at 
him  with  a  smile  never  while  he  lived  to  be  forgotten. 
"  Tell  Evelyn  I  loved  her  to  the  last,"  she  said. 

The  words  rang  out  loud  and  clear ;  they  seemed  the 
final  effort  of  a  passing  soul.  Then  gradually  her  eye 
lids  drooped,  and  Dr.  Cargill  thought  the}7  would  never 
rise  again. 

But  God  was  merciful  to  Evelyn.  It  was  not  at 
that  hour  or  on  that  day  that  her  faithful  friend  was 
"  caught  inward  toward  the  eternal  melodies,"  and 
"  entered  into  the  mystery  of  glory." 


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